


The Wild Side

by fadingdreams



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, drug AU, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadingdreams/pseuds/fadingdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where innocence is quickly claimed, Harry is just trying to follow his dreams. But all that goes to hell when he wanders onto the wrong side of town and meets Louis Tomlinson. Slowly but surely, he gets dragged down into Louis’ dark universe of drugs and gets lost in a permanent high.<br/>There’s a reason people tell you never to talk to strangers. Because what if you fall for them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> really felt like writing something totally twisted, more to come, hope you enjoy it. XX

_“I’m sorry mate. I just don’t think you’re what we’re looking for right now. Good luck though”_

Harry groaned inwardly but spoke cheerily into the phone. “S’alright buddy. Thanks for looking at It.”, he said, jabbing the end call button as violently as he could and tossing his phone onto his bed. In his tiny apartment, you could see the bedroom on the kitchen and the living room was almost lost in between the two. Consisting of a small couch on which a blonde Irish boy was currently lounging and looking up sympathetically at Harry.

“Don’t lose hope Harry. You’ll make it, just have faith.”

“Make it when Nialler? Today? Next week? Next year? When?” The curly haired boy responded, putting his head in his hands and tiredly rubbing at his eyes. Niall got up from the sofa and walked up to his best friend, putting an arm around his shoulder and speaking soothingly.  
 “It’s only been a month Harry. The best artists in the world took years to become what they are. Give it time.” 

Harry looked up into blue eyes, and voiced out the worry that had been hounding him since his very first rejections. “But what I I’m not talented Niall? What if I’m just being delusional by thinking I could actually have a chance to do this?”

Niall took Harry by his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “Harry, I have been hearing you sing since we were six years old. It’s in your blood! You were _born_ to do this. Don’t give up so easily.”

Harry just nodded, feeling a bit more reassured. Looking satisfied, Niall clapped a hand on his back and suggested jovially, “Hey, you want to go to the pub?”

“Niall you know I don’t drink.”

“So? You can watch _me_ drink. And then make sure I get home. I have a flight to catch tomorrow.”

“Then should you really be going to a pub?”

“No, but when have I ever done what I _should_ be doing.”

Harry chuckled well naturedly. “I’m going to miss you mate.”

Harry had moved to the heart of London, with ambitions to become a world famous artist, and his best friend flying in had given him the bittersweet feeling of home. He often missed his family and friends, especially his mother, having being coddled for most of his life as the baby of the family.

“I know buddy, me too.”

Both the boys fell into a comfortable silence, as they often did when they were together as they alternated between conversations.

“So what about that pub?”

This time, Harry barked out a genuine laugh and grabbed his coat from the stand near the door, ushering the blonde boy out, “The pub it is Nialler.”   
-

_“Have faith Harry. Everything’s going to be alright. I’ll see you again as soon as I can.”_

Harry snorted at the memory. It had been three months, and the young boy was still in the same old ditch, trying to snag record deal, _or anything_ that he could use to claw his way into the music industry that he had been dreaming about since he was a toddler.  What was he doing now? Singing with a guitar in a seedy restaurant for people who couldn’t care less about the struggling teenager.

 He walked down the street dejectedly, guitar slung over his shoulder. People say have faith. But have faith in what? It was so hard to keep his hopes up; he wasn’t wired with such optimistic traits. It was times like this that the boy missed his mother; she always found a way to cheer him up.

Much to his despair, Harry felt raindrops beginning to fall on his curly head. The fat tears soaking through his thin coat. Groaning frustrated, he turned his collar up and shoved his hands in his pocket.  He muttered under his breath viciously. Cursing at everything, whatever god he could name, those stupid people who looked at his tracks, his mother for not stopping him from doing stupid stuff and mostly himself. Because he was dumb enough to think he actually had a chance to shine. Stupid Harry Styles. Always thinking that he’s worth a second glance.

“WELL FUCK YOU!” He screamed into the now pouring rain.  He was soaking wet, the water having seeped through his barely there coat and even thinner T-shirt.  He stood in the same spot, not knowing how long he was there for. Eventually though, his nails stopped digging into his palms, his eyes lost the red fire that they had contained momentarily and his head began to hang, eyes trained on the floor. Because Harry was the good boy, always the calm one, always the one to gently encourage people away from the things that would harm them, the boy that rarely put himself before other people. Nobody saw Harry angry, because he wouldn’t let them.

As he calmed down, he took in the surroundings that he had wandered into. The street looked run down and more decrepit than the more modern and clean neighborhood that he lived in. There were old and dilapidated buildings scattered on either side of the bumpy road. Harry scrunched up his nose at the explicit graffiti on the walls and the many doors with the paint peeling off. The street itself was empty but it looked like people inhabited the place.  The broken-down buildings stared down at him sadly, dim lights streaming weakly through the windows. 

The boy cautiously turned around to go back home, unwilling to stay in this place that was full of foreboding.  As he turned though, he heard slurring voices screaming at him from behind his back.

“Hey posh. What you doing down here?”

Harry kept walking swiftly; if he turned they would probably catch up to him. Hopefully they were too drunk to stay on their feet.  But luck was really not on the cards for Harry that night, and before he knew it, he saw shadows that weren’t his walking behind him. He figured it was no use running anymore; they would catch him anyway.

“Can I help you boys?”

The four guys sneered at him. They were all much taller than him and much more muscled when compared to Harry’s lanky frame.

“Actually yes. We want to know, what a posh fag like y’ is doin’ ‘ere?

“Just lost my way, nothing to worry about, I’m just heading back.” Harry said, holding his palms up in surrender.

All the guys did was laugh in response; one came up to Harry, so close that the young boy could smell the alcohol rolling of his breath with every word.  He grabbed one of Harry’s hands suddenly and twisted it behind his back, smiling as he heard the boy yelp in pain.

Harry tried to scream but his throat ran dry, one of the men in front of him, seemed to be alert to this fact and came forward to knee his gut, making Harry groan and double over in pain. A gag was stuffed into his mouth to prevent him from screaming bloody murder down the street. 

The curly haired boy now had tears streaming down his face as he received two more blows to his stomach and three to his face. There was blood running down his nose and he was sure he was bruised everywhere else because his chest throbbed and searing pain was shooting up his knees.

He fell to his knees, sobbing silently and praying to anyone he could think of that these people would lose interest in him. One of the men bent to his level and mocked him, lip curling.  “This neighborhood is cold. Nobody is gonna ‘ear you. Nobody’s gonna try an‘ help.”

Obviously he was drunker than Harry thought; he was kneeling in front of the green eyed boy, leaving his chest exposed. On instinct, Harry pulled an arm back and punched him hard in the ribs. The man wheezed and glared at Harry and almost immediately a gun was put to his curly head.

“You see? This ‘ere is the problem.” slurred the man holding the gun. “Now I’m gonna have to pull this trigger.”

Harry closed his eyes. _Please, help me. Anyone._

“And my am I going to like it.”

The gun dug itself into Harry’s head, as he waited for the shot, but it never came.  By some twist of nature, it was decided that he was worth saving; Nature came in the form of an angelic voice that rolled smoothly and calmly.

“OI! Randy! Mitch! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Teaching this posh a lesson.”

“What, by killing him?”

“Why, you wanna join ‘im whore?”

Harry heard the sound of a punch and a groan from one of the guys, his whole body seemed to be in pieces and the awareness he had of his surroundings was fading. He was going numb and his head was going blank. 

_If this is what dying feels like, it isn’t that bad._  
The last thing Harry saw before his blacked out was the brightest flash of blue eyes, looking into his green ones


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where innocence is quickly claimed, Harry is just trying to follow his dreams. But all that goes to hell when he wanders onto the wrong side of town and meets Louis Tomlinson. Slowly but surely, he gets dragged down into Louis’ dark universe of drugs and gets lost in a permanent high.  
> There’s a reason people tell you never to talk to strangers. Because what if you fall for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> people are trying to inform me that this has been copied off Tumblr. No it has not, it's in both places now. I am Drishti, Drishti is me. Touched by the concern though, aha XXDrishti Enjoy this chapter!

Louis wished that he could block the binding sunlight that was streaming through the cracks in the cardboard that he had used to cover up his broken window. His flat mate, Zayn, was always telling him to go and buy curtains but by the end of the day he was always too drunk to care about it.

But for the sake of the bruised boy on his couch, Louis didn’t want the beams burning up the room. He turned to look at his sofa and the boy lying across it. Louis thought he was quite pretty, wild curly hair sweeping his porcelain forehead. One of his temples had a violet, circular mark against the skin, from the gun that had been pressed so harshly against it. Long eyelashes brushing the purple hollows where the skin stretched thinly over his eye sockets, they were the bruises that Louis himself had under his eyes from dozens of sleepless nights, either high or smashed. Louis knew that if his eyelids flew upwards, he would be blinded with flashes of green.  The planes of his neck were long and smooth, lined with some light green veins. Finger prints were purple across the pale skin, and if his shirt was to ride up, Louis would see dark blue and black bruises against his chest and abdomen.

Oh he was very good looking, beautiful even. Louis realized that he was staring at the boy more intensely than before, and he also became aware of the fact that there were green eyes staring intensely back.  Louis noticed that his eyes were the most piercing emerald that he had ever seen before, even in their dulled, confused state. His mouth opened slowly and Louis found himself wondering what his voice would sound like.

“Where am I?” He said slowly, his voice warm and raspy, like honey. It was low and seductive, sending shivers down Louis’ spine. Louis was a very confident person, but this stranger’s tone seemed to reduce him to trembles.

-

Harry took a look at his shabby surroundings. The room was dirty and dilapidated; the walls were a faded orange that he was sure had been a stunning maroon once upon a time. The carpet on the cold floor was frayed and had obviously not been cleaned in a _very_ long time. It was bigger than his flat but, cold and uncared for. He gingerly tried to sit up, his chest throbbed and stung. His head began spinning horribly. Bile came up in his throat and he heaved over the carpet, spewing acidic yellow liquid all over the matted fur.  Apologies seemed to tumble out of his mouth soon after.

-

“Fuck, I’m so sorry –that’s disgusting, I’ll buy you a new carpet –“

“That’s alright. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s thrown up there. “, a voice answered him. It was high and had a charming lilt to it, even though it was slightly slurred. Harry looked up and saw a man, slightly older than him, scrunching up his nose at the vomit on the rug. He had feathery brown hair that looked just right on a tanned skin tone. His blue eyes twinkled, and that’s what caught Harry’s attention, because they stared right at him.

“And to answer your first question, you’re at my house. If you can really call this a house.  “

Harry looked on skeptically. “But those guys, they held a gun to my head. How did you -?

“Those dicks? They usually never actually _use_ the gun, but they were so high, I doubt they realized what they were doing. “

There was a silence which Harry broke, coughing awkwardly “When did I pass out?”

“The minute you fell to the floor. You hit your head pretty hard. It was a right pain dragging you up the stairs; I can’t remember the last time the elevator worked. –“ 

“I’m sorry –“

“Hey don’t sweat it mate! The way they beat you up, I’m surprised you’re still alive, a guy like you. I just wish I had seen it earlier. “

“A guy like me?”

Louis blushed; sometimes he wished he could put a limit on his bluntness. “I mean, you’re from the really posh side aren’t you?”

“The posh side?” Harry inquired wearily.

“The opposite of this place basically. Everyone who loses themselves seems to end up here, the rough side of London. We’re all a misfit community, but y’know at least we’re a family.”

“Have you lost yourself?”

Louis swallowed uncomfortably. The boy was staring at him, his eyes burning with a passionate green flame.  “You know what, I don’t even know your name!” he chuckled manically.

“Harry. Harry Styles.”

“Well Harry Styles.” He teased. “Would you like a something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Whiskey?”

“Tea please.”

“Just as well. I’m at coffee. Zayn’s the only one who drinks coffee. I hate it.”, he said getting up and walking towards a grimy kitchen.

“Uh –I never caught your name?” Harry said to his they blue eyed boys turned back. He twisted around to look at Harry and smiled, not unkindly.

“Louis Tomlinson.”

-

“So, tell me about yourself, Harry Styles.”, Louis said, putting a warm cup of tea in Harry’s hand and sitting across him, sipping from a cup himself.

Harry’s throat was still dry from lack of use and his whole body stung if he sat the wrong way, it was clear that he was bruised all over.  He began to cough, pain shooting up the middle of his chest. Louis put down his cup and put his arm on Harry’s shoulder concernedly.

“You okay Harry?”

“I think –I think I must have slept wrong.” He wheezed, falling back down on the sofa. Louis chuckled in response, as harry asked him concernedly.

“Did you uh, see any bruises?”

“Trust me; you don’t want to see them. You’ll just scare yourself.”

Harry gulped, hands playing with the hem of his t-shirt. There was a silence in the room until Harry began to talk in low tones.

“I finished university and moved here three months ago, and I’m starting to wish I hadn’t.”

Louis pulled his knees to his chest and took another sip of his coffee.  Harry’s face was curled into himself and his eyes were hooded, he looked ashamed more than anything.

“Everyone has regrets; I did too, a long time ago when I cared.”

“Cared about what?”

“Everything. But that’s just it isn’t it? I don’t care anymore. “

Harry swiveled around, to look Louis in the eye. Whenever people saw Harry all he saw in their eyes was pity, pity that he loathed. In Louis eyes though, all he saw was an understanding. The blue reminded him of Niall. Their eyes were so achingly similar, yet so profoundly different, Harry couldn’t, for the life of him put a finger on why he liked Louis’ eyes so much more.

The tan boy put his cup down and stood up, grabbing a black shirt from one of the lone chairs that stood in the corner. He peeled the slightly bloody, white shirt of his body and proceeded to put the other one on. Harry found himself transfixed by how the muscles rippled in his back. He wanted to run fingers down the spine and feel them flexing. Before he knew it, the feather haired boy was in front of him, holding a hand out to Harry. He took it without thinking twice. The curly haired boy stood up, ignoring the pain running down his back and stumbling over his own feet and fell onto Louis, who steadied him with strong arms.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to Viva. That’s where I work.”

“You work at a bar?” Harry coughed.

“Yes, only from six to ten, after that its fun in the back room isn’t it?”

“What’s in the back room?”

Louis rolled his eyes and led Harry gently out the door.

“So naïve. Do you ever wish you could just numb yourself to everything?”

 “All the time.” Harry mumbled, thinking about all the sleepless nights he had spent, tossing and turning, thinking about his failures and the future. Louis squeezed his arm and smiled at him. The cold wind whipped Harry’s cheek and he flinched, while Louis barely batted an eyelid, allowing the blast to slap at his chest and face.

“I know the feeling Harry. I can help you there.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where innocence is quickly claimed, Harry is just trying to follow his dreams. But all that goes to hell when he wanders onto the wrong side of town and meets Louis Tomlinson. Slowly but surely, he gets dragged down into Louis’ dark universe of drugs and gets lost in a permanent high.  
> There’s a reason people tell you never to talk to strangers. Because what if you fall for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch out for some indirect mature scenes (: XX Enjoy!

 

To say that Harry was confused was an understatement. In less than twenty four hours, his mind had been flipped a hundred times. He stared at the boy who had saved him, at the bar. He was tossing drinks into glasses with a smile, he looked so happy with where he was, laughing with his regulars and sending a smile in Harry’s direction every now and then, but his eyes had a distance to them.

He flipped his feathery hair and turned to the boy sitting in the corner again, looking completely out of place. Louis checked the time, and shouted across to the Harry, his green eyes meeting Louis’ immediately, despite the thumping music.

“Babe, want something to help you wait?” He yelled cheekily, sliding a glass down the table, filled with a strong concoction that would get him stumbling in no time.

Harry looked at the glass unsure and pushed it away, shaking his head.

“I don’t drink Louis.”

“Oh come on Harry. Relax, let go. Everyone needs a break sometimes. It helps. Trust me.”  With the last words, Harry could see in his cerulean eyes that he meant what he said.

His hands trembled a bit as he took a sip from the large glass. The liquid burned his throat as it went down, making his eyes water. He coughed and spluttered, looking at Louis through a blur of silver tears.

“Louis, n-not helping.”

Louis chuckled and gestured at the glass, “Try again, smaller sips. You won’t have to feel anything anymore. I promise.” 

And Harry trusted him. How could those beautiful blue eyes lie?

-

Harry spun, the flashing lights blinding him, music thumping, floor vibrating and alcohol throbbing in his veins.  It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Everything seemed to be spinning, nothing was making sense, and Harry liked that. He liked that all he could register was himself and Louis grinding into his back, hands on his hips and lips on his neck.  He turned around; it was unbearable to feel the boy without looking into the depth of his eyes.  They were red and puffed up, but Harry could still see the blue that had turned a dark sapphire color. Stormy, dark and full of lust. There was something sinister lurking, and Harry loved it.

He stared with fascination. The feather haired boy seemed to have taken Harry into another world, one where there were no expectations, no goals to meet, nobody to impress. All that mattered was their sweaty bodies slipping and sliding, arms in a tangle as they moved with the noise that was consuming them. Their lips collided, and in no time, they were a mess of tongues and moans.  Apart from the judging eyes and surrounded by sweaty bodies that couldn’t care less that they were high, fucked up misfits.  

They continued to kiss, sloppy and uncontrolled passion flowed through their bodies and Louis bit hard at Harry’s lower lip, a coppery taste filling his mouth as the younger boy whimpered, weak under the trance that he was in.

Louis growled into his mouth, grabbing his wrists harshly as he pulled a confused and disoriented Harry through the hot room, and outside into the cool night air.

“Where are we going Lou?” Harry asked, somehow managing to sound completely innocent as he pressed Louis against the wall and bit into the skin at the base of his throat. Louis groaned in frustration and pulled Harry away with force, leading him into the building next to the club, allowing the beat of the music to get faint until Harry was finally trapped behind Louis’ apartment door.

Harry grabbed at the hem of Louis’ shirt pulling it over his head desperately and peppering kisses down his throat to his chest, warm thumbs rubbing at his hips, pushing underneath his jeans as he fiddled with the belt buckle.

They fell onto the bed together, taking no notice of the ragged sheets and rough blankets. They were consumed by the heat that was pulsing through their bodies.  Harry thought it was quite nice, the fact that he couldn’t feel anything except Louis pushing into him, gasping his name. It was a new kind of high, having Louis’ fingers in his hair as they chased release together, moaning each other’s names in the darkness, the only light, a candle in the corner. 

Harry knew that he was drunk, and he knew that Louis was probably _really_ high. But when Louis collapsed next to him, wrapping his arms around the taller boy, Harry felt safe, accepted. He knew that he wouldn’t –couldn’t be there in the morning, but he wouldn’t forget what Louis probably considered a mindless, drunken fuck.

But when the sun finally rose outside, and the candle was no longer the only source of light, Harry found it hard leave. Maybe it was because Louis’ body was so warm, pressed against his, or maybe because a hand darted out to grab his wrist, as if seeing his indecision and telling him to stay.

And so he stayed. He was safe here.

-

When Harry woke next, it was to an empty bed, but he knew that Louis had not left. He stood up, pulling on his boxers from the previous night and a single hoodie he found that didn’t smell like alcohol.

He found Louis with his head stuck out the window, cheeks hollowed out as he took a drag from a cigarette that was balancing delicately between his fingers.  He blew out a perfect smoke ring as he turned around to greet Harry, who was looking at his hooded eyes with awe.  

“Morning.”, the feather haired boy said simply, holding out a white stick to Harry expectantly.

The green eyes boy took it hesitantly, and put it between his lips, gesturing to Louis for a light. Instead of giving it to him directly, the tan boy came close and covered the end with his palm, lighting it slowly while looking straight into Harry’s jade eyes, how his eyelashes fluttered as he took a drag, how he started spluttering as the taste hit the back of his throat.

“How the –fuck do you even do this?”

“It takes a smoke or two until you actually begin to enjoy it. “

Harry took another drag, this time, keeping it in his mouth to for a few seconds before letting it hit his throat again. It didn’t taste as bad, but was still uncomfortable. He stubbed it out on the metal window sill and grinned apologetically at Louis, who tangled their fingers together happily.

“S’alright love. It isn’t like we have anywhere to be. Or anyone to see. I mean if you want –you don’t have to live like you do. I can help you be happy.”

Harry thought about the way he was last night, with no worries in the world, nothing jerking him back to hard reality.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone began to vibrate on the table next to him. He looked at the caller ID, showing the happy face of his mother.

Reality. 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry’s flat was dusty, bed perfectly made and milk gone off.  He had been home for no more than ten minutes, having run off after hearing the voice of his mother telling him that Niall was coming to see him, and chastising him for switching off his phone.

All the things he had done the night previously had finally hit him and jerked him out of the trance that Louis had put him in, and suddenly he yearned to escape the dark, dingy apartment. He begged to be released from those cerulean blue eyes that looked so tired, yet so pure and _alive_. A quality he had not seen in his green ones for a long time. 

He had been home for no more than twenty minutes. Already he itched for those eyes, to feel those lips, to see hollowed out cheeks dragging at their cigarette.

He walked towards the mirror and poked his cheek critically. He looked like absolute _crap_.

His hair stuck up in every direction, it didn’t help that he had been running his hands through the unruly mop since he stepped into his house.  His face was the worst though; there was a dark circle of black around his right eye, his left cheek was turning purple already and his lip was swollen up. A circular bruise lay on his temple, from being held at gunpoint. Harry ran a thumb over it, eyes closing at the memory.

He cautiously ran his fingers round the hem of his shirt and hitched it up, sucking in a breath at what he saw.  Blue, purple and black bruises littered his chest, dying the skin in arrays of color. Mostly around his ribs and his stomach, he was beaten up good and proper.

The only bruises he accepted were the red and indigo teeth marks on his neck and the finger bruises on his hips that reminded him of the searing heat as Louis rocked into him late at night, when the world was asleep.

He tried to distract his mind when it skirted around the topic of Louis, but it never worked. The mysterious boy who saved Harry’s life was always on his consciousness.

-

Harry groaned as the door slammed open, filling the house with a charming Irish lilt yelling, “Honey I’m home!”

Harry chased a painkiller down his throat with the last of his tea for his sore head. It thumped and burned from all the alcohol he had consumed, and he was pretty sure that it was a hangover that was making him suffer.  Nevertheless, we plastered a smile on his face and went to meet his best friend who could not have chosen a worse time to meet the tired boy.

Niall was too good for Harry though.

He eyed a smiling Harry up and down as he flopped onto the couch, exhausted from his trip.

“What’s up mate? You look like shit.”

“That tends to happen when Niall turns up in my house at an ungodly hour like this.”

Niall rolled his eyes and pretended to laugh, holding his palms up in mock awe.  

“It’s your life. Hey, but what are we up to today? You taking me on a date Styles?” Niall winked, running his hands through Harry’s curls mischievously.

“Wherever you wanna go I guess.” Harry said half-heartedly, smacking Niall’s fingers out of his hair. Niall scrunched up his eyes to look at Harry. The younger boy looked tired and distracted, and scarily worse than when Niall had seen him three months prior.

“Hey mate. Are you sure you’re alright? You look really bad.”

“I’m fine Niall alright? How long are you staying for?”

“Around two days. And if you’re fine why do you look like someone jumped in a dark alley and almost beat you dead?” Niall said, blinking shrewdly.  The blonde boy eyed his bruises skeptically, brushing a finger against the bruise on his temple.

“It’s nothing.” Harry retorted, slapping his friend’s hand away and shaking his head.

“Oh come on Harry. I’ve known you since second grade. Do you think that I actually can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“You can. But you can’t force me to tell you the truth.”

-

The wind was bitter, as Niall and Harry walked back towards Harry’s apartment.  The cold was ignored in the midst of the warmth in their friendship. They fell back into place wordlessly, working together in that seamless relationship that they never lost.

Niall kept up the banter between the two, and Harry answered with wit. They laughed their way down the street and didn’t delve into deeper problems.  Niall didn’t pick an argument, even though he knew that Harry was fighting some kind of personal battle, and Harry was just thankful that someone understood.

Not too far away from his thoughts though, there was an itch that Harry couldn’t quench.  It was and itch that wanted to push Harry back to the dark side of town. Back to that temporary high that he had enjoyed so much. Back to those blue eyes that had captivated him and taken him away, to fly high for a while.

Harry needed the feeling. He could feel himself sinking back into his virtual hole; he could sense himself filling up with self-hatred again. He wanted his throat to burn and his head to pound. He wanted the room to spin and he wanted to forget. 

But most of all, he wanted Louis with him.

-

 

_“I have to go, Louis I’m sorry.”_

_“I get it okay Harry? This isn’t your world. It’s mine. It isn’t fair on you. This is no place for you.”_

_“Louis I –“_

_“Just leave Harry. You obviously don’t need my help.”_

-

Louis watched the flame flickering on his lighter. Focusing on the dancing flames made him feel warmer. He held the flare to the end of the cigarette and took a drag. His eyes were hooded and his shoulders loosened. His mind was still tense though, ever straying to the topic of _Harry_.

_HarryHarryHarry_

He remembered the way his curls stuck to his pale forehead. He remembered the taste of his neck as he sighed lavender bruises into the milky skin. Something about the boy screamed innocence and Louis had felt like a sinner every time he thrust into the younger boy. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when all he could see was white, hot pleasure behind his eyelids, and all he could hear were weak whimpers dripping from Harry’s lips, and deep groans falling from his own.

He scoffed when Zayn teased him about obsession, but Louis feared that he was on the brink of something worse. Absolute madness. 


	5. Chapter 5

Niall looked Harry over once again, just before he was leaving his bag slung over his shoulder and his palm on the door handle.

Harry’s bruises were fading, his face looked almost normal again, save for the change in his eyes, they seemed more tired, like the eyes of a man that has given up.

Harry was upset that his best friend was leaving, but he was glad for the distraction that Niall had given him over that last two days. Had always been a source of constant happiness and encouragement in his life. He had always been there to boost Harry’s confidence when it was at its lowest, and he always seemed to show up when Harry needed him the most.

The blue eyes seemed but a faint memory, but they swam to the front of his consciousness again, piercing him, staring him down, and turning his knees to cotton.

“Take care of yourself okay? Don’t let me come back and see you beaten up like that again. It was kind of scary mate.” Niall laughed, but there was concern in his words. He slapped Harry on the back lightly and bid his farewell, leaving the apartment and taking all traces of himself along.

All of a sudden, the flat seemed empty, and Harry was alone again. He thought of playing, or singing, or doing something to get his mind off it. His beautiful, richly coloured guitar would not be waiting on its usual stand in the corner of the bedroom. It had been carelessly left at the hands of a certain feather haired boy.

Frankly, Harry was too afraid to even venture in attempt of getting it back. He was afraid that he would fall to temptation, he was afraid that he was giving himself _exactly_ what he wanted.

But a week after Niall left, his hands began to itch again. He didn’t know whether it was because he needed to feel the metal strings of his guitar or because he simply wanted Louis, all of him. From his silken shirts to his smooth, warm skin.

He couldn’t afford a new guitar, so it was back to the other side of town. Louis’ side of town, the wild side of town.

As he walks out into the cold winter air, his phone buzzes in his pocket, he takes it out to see the words ‘Red Lounge Studio’ lighting up the screen. Hope bubbled up in his belly again as he picked up the phone eagerly.

“Hello?”

_“Hey, mate, we took a look at your records –“_

“You did? What –“

_“Yeah, they’re actually really good, I enjoyed listening to them.”_

“Any luck for me?” It seemed too good to be true, but Harry had a hunch.  

_“Look, I’m sorry. I have a boss to please as well, even though, I think you could be a really good deal, he thinks differently.”_

“Then why spend a whole five minutes of my life praising me if you didn’t even get me the deal.” Harry deadpanned, not caring about his attitude.

_“I just think that you should keep trying. You have a talent. Don’t waste it mate.”_

“Yeah, thanks for your advice.” Harry said snarkily to the voice that was genuinely trying to help him and jabbed the call to an end.  

The hope that had momentarily soared inside him was plummeting, crash landing, falling. It was being carelessly crushed because of a person who he didn’t even know, from a company that he didn’t want to care about.

Suddenly, Harry’s head was throbbing and he felt awfully dizzy. His throat was getting choked up and he leaned against the wall wheezing for support until the fit subsided. He opened the kitchen cabinets wildly for the aspirin he so badly needed.  To his the despair, the bottle was empty. With much discomfort, Harry set out, braving the cold to soothe his pounding mind.

-

“Box of aspirin please. “  , Harry muttered fishing his wallet out of his pocket as the girl at the counter reached the shelves.

Packets of cigarettes and brightly colored lighters decorated the sides of the cashier. The whole morning seemed to weigh down on Harry, and he wanted one, he wanted the smoke to fill his lungs, make him cough and splutter for being such a marvelous fuck up, turning down job offers and university opportunities just to make it big. He should have known better.

He grabbed a packet of cigarettes and a bright green lighter to go with it and threw it onto the counter along with a few bills. The girl bagged them quickly and pushed them towards him with a quick _thank you_ as she attended the other customers.

He walked out of the drug store and went around the corner, behind the many bricked buildings and glass windows.  He opened the packet and put the white stick between his mouth, gingerly cupping it and lighting it up. Against his will, he remembered Louis’ coaching, breath in gently, hold it in and exhale.

It still tasted horrible, but it was bearable. He smoked the whole thing and stubbed it out on the wall.

Another was put between his lips and lit up, the smoke keeping him warm inside. It was better now, good actually. His mind was numb and relaxed; he was doing less thinking and more feeling. He was more aware of the breeze ruffling his hair, the jagged wall poking his back and the stones beneath his shoes. He could smell the feeble London air mingling with the smoke and see the bright orange, glowing tip of the cigarette. He saw everything; he felt everything, as if for the first time. And it was more beautiful than ever.

Harry could get used to this feeling very easily.

Before he realized, the cigarette packet was three pieces less, and the young boy, wandering off to the rough side of town, was pleasantly buzzed and unworried for anything happening around him.

Nobody paid attention to him, probably because in his rugged and high state, he had become one of them, and maybe, that made him happy, to belong somewhere, even if it was with people that society didn’t necessarily appreciate.

He had reached Louis’ home, and was standing in front of a large glowing sign said ‘Viva’. The sign was electrical blue, just like Louis’ eyes.

Harry was ready, he was ready to give in and give up. Clearly something had lured him; something (someone?) had attracted him to wild, rough edges, thumping music and flashing lights. It was fate, and he was following. He was sick of just getting along, going with the flow, being smoothly pliant to what everyone else wanted. What did he want?

He wanted friction, bumpy landscapes a buzz in his veins. He wanted cerulean eyes and a blinding smile.

He walked towards the pub doors and his palm touched the door handle. He wanted freedom. 


	6. Chapter 6

Smoke billowed out, mingling with the cold December air of London. Harry took another drag, slowly, savoring it. He balanced the cigarette at the corner of his mouth, letting it dangle over his lips as he shoved the lighter back into his pocket. His shoulders were hunched as he walked away from Viva, the club that he had come to know as a home. Escape.

The wind whipped at his thin shirt, jeans sagging low off his hips. He hardly ever wore a jacket anymore; he was often too far gone to notice the weather, often high on chemicals, or on Louis.

But tonight he was sober, there was no time to sneak into the back room of the bar, and Harry’s hands were slightly jittery.

He took another drag, making sure he could taste it, on the inside of his cheeks, on his tongue and on the back of his throat. His hands were beginning to steady.

He didn’t bother to put out the cigarette as he pushed the door open into Louis’ flat, well he might as well call it his. He had been living there for almost seven months.

Too many things had been done in the flat, for anyone to object to a bit of smoke.  

A shoe thudded to the floor, as Harry slumped onto the couch, viciously toeing off the second one. His once clear green eyes were already glazed over, but they seemed to be like that all the time, they shone when Louis was there, they shone brightly, through the haze of the drugs, or the alcohol or whatever concoction that Harry’s boyfriend had prepared.

Harry curled his knees into his chest, thinking about Louis’ eyes, so blue and bright for him. It wouldn’t be long before he came home, and whisked him off to somewhere outdoors, somewhere with lots of grass and wind and somewhere to see the moon. Louis’ knew what Harry liked.

The curly haired boy hummed mindlessly, to a tune that he could remember from what seemed like ages ago. The song didn’t fill him with warmth like it used to; it didn’t make him feel like home. All he knew was a cold, dingy apartment, housing a broken boy on the wild side of town.

-

“Come on Harry, I know when something’s wrong with you.”  Louis slurred, taking Harry’s hand tenderly in his own.

The two boys lay under the stars and the moon, their only eye level view, a dirty ditch across the fence. Their legs were entangled and so were fingers, the bottle of cheap wine, lying forgotten under their knocking knees.

Harry sniffed drunkenly and leaned forward to press his lips to Louis’, allowing the warmth to fill his belly and lift him higher than alcohol ever could.  He bit at Louis’ lip mischievously, but the older boy laughed and kept his lips firmly shut, smiling into Harry’s frowning mouth, eyes twinkling.

He pulled away, leaving a hand on his boyfriend’s cheek, raising an eyebrow. “C’mon Haz, I’ve only had wine, you aren’t going to be able to distract me like that. Tell me.”

Harry sighed and leaned back against the fence, looking up at the moon and picking up the wine bottle again, taking a swig and letting the liquid run down his throat pleasantly.

“I think about home sometimes. About my mum, and my sister. Are they worried about me?”

“You can always go see them you know.”

Harry snorted and turned his gaze to Louis skeptically.  “And show them what I’ve become? What I am?”

“You aren’t a monster, it’s not like they’ll hate you.” Louis didn’t sound very certain.

“Louis, you know that isn’t true. What did your father do when –“ Harry bit his own lip and looked away from Louis’ eyes, and pretended that he hadn’t seen the flash of hurt that had passed through them.

After what seemed like ages, the feather haired boy spoke. “My father was the monster.”  He said softly, brushing a finger against Harry’s calf. “He didn’t understand. But that doesn’t mean that it will be the same for you.”

There was silence again, as Harry thought over the seven months that he had been with Louis. It was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him. It seemed like it was all one large downward spiral into a dark place. But Louis was there with him. And suddenly it was not so dark.

“It’s your choice anyway Haz, and I’m never going to leave you, I love you too much for that. Now stop being a sod and pass the booze.” Louis grunted. Harry laughed and passed the bottled willingly, pouncing on Louis soon after, pinning him to the ground, eyes naughty again. Louis’ thumbs were in the loops of his jeans, and Harry’s nose was warm in his neck. It was another one of those moments, where everything was right again.

-

Harry leaned out of the window, listening to Zayn’s rant about a fit girl that he had picked up the previous day. For once he wasn’t smoking, and his cheeks were red.

It was almost Christmas, he was thinking about his family. They were probably setting up the tree, baking cookies messily, buying presents, crammed into one couch, watching cheesy Christmas films.

It had been a long time since he had even thought about home; he was always so consumed in himself and in Louis, that the topic was always over ridden, but never out of mind.

He often wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t met Louis, if he hadn’t wandered out on the wrong streets.  He would have probably still been playing his guitar in restaurants, chilling with Niall, eating Chinese takeout for dinner with beers.

It would have been a good life.

Instead he was working in a bar, with a boy that he was besotted with, two other best friends, and a lot of chemicals that messed with his head.

Ever since he had touched that door of Viva for the second time, he had fallen. He had come looking for freedom, and he had found it and lost it in Louis.

They were tied together by the drugs, and the midnight smokes, and the cheap bottles of wine, and the late night television. Their kisses kept them alive; the touches kept them in flames, but stopped them from burning, every time Harry bit and licked at Louis’ neck, every time uttered words of his love, every time they injected the poison into their arms, they were pushed further into the void, but brought closer to a light.

And that was a good life too. It just wasn’t something expected.

-

Music was thumping, and Harry was dancing. His eyes were dull, consumed with the alcohol, and his clothes smelt of sweat and smoke. Louis came up behind him, grabbing his waist and attaching his lips to a point in his neck. Harry tilted his head back, allowing more access, letting nimble fingers run all over his waist.

Louis slowly steered him off the dance floor, pulling him into a room at the back of the club, and sitting them down on one of the sofas.

If it were possible, this room was even raunchier than the main club. Harry could distinctly, even in his drunken state, smell cocaine and weed in the air. Everyone there had hazy eyes, and drooping lids. Everyone had their hands running over strangers, enchanted in their high.

The strobe lights were dimmer, but the music was louder, the bass was down lower and the beats raced with fervor, as did the young people who were barely strangers, but they had a connection.

They were all unaware; they were all lost in themselves. They were all a little confused, but still happy, lonely but whole. 

They were just a bunch of miserable teenagers living the fast life.

Louis shaped some lines of white powder on the table in front of them; Harry looked on in anticipation at him.  Louis’ forehead was shiny with sweat, he was breathing heavily as he hunched over his work, treating it like an art, shaping them straight and rigid on the paper. He passed one to Harry with a devilish smile, and the younger boy grinned and tilted his head backwards, tilting the powder into his nostril and sniffing, being careful not to waste any.

When all of it was gone, he shook his head, looking back at Louis, who was giving harry a strange look, before snorting his own line, still hunching on his knees.

Louis grabbed Harry’s waist and pulled him up as the lights suddenly turned brighter, and the music suddenly rose louder.

He rubbed his nose, and sniffed twice, attaching his lips to Louis, clutching the back of his shirt with desperate hands.  His senses were heightened, his nerve endings lit up flames with everything he touched.

He was deliciously, wildly and perfectly on fire.

 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a whilee :( But you could always check my tumblr for updates XX


	7. Chapter 7

Harry breathed in and out very softly, the thick comforter rising and falling with every movement of his back.

Louis had awoken already, his head was pounding like a drum, but he couldn’t make himself get up and take a tablet, he couldn’t bring himself to untangle his fingers from Harry. So instead he just closed his eyes, just tried to remember the happenings of the previous bight. He remembered lights and smells and stumbling home. He remembered making love on the living room floor and Harry throwing a blanket on them when they were too tired to move.

Harry looked innocent when he slept. His cheeks would lose their angular set and would puff out. His lips would become soft, and begin to taste like just _Harry_ , not cigarettes or weed.  Sleep took at least a year or two off a face that was too old for him.

Louis loved Harry, and he wished that Harry had never met him, had never strayed to him, and had never come back. But he had, and now Louis was lost. The older of the two had been stuck in a rut for almost two years, Harry was falling too, and soon he would be in the same rut with his beloved.

But Louis didn’t want that, he wanted Harry to be free and allowed to chase his dream, not spend every hour thinking about the next hit he was going to get.

Harry had snuggled his head into Louis’ chest like a cat, rubbing his curly hair along Louis’ stubbly chin.

The morning was calm, a few birds twittered, and a few leaves shuffled outside the window, it was just the beginning of a normal day, but Louis had plans for that normal day.

-

“Louis.” Harry said, sifting through the box under the bed, in the wardrobe, between the bedside tables. He turned around and yelled for Louis again.

“What is it Haz?” Louis asked, quietly walking into the room with a cup of tea, sitting down on the bed cross legged and looking under at Harry.

The curly haired boy looked up expectantly and inquired, “Where’s my stash? It’s always under the bed.”

 If Harry had been looking his way, he would have seen the flash of guilt passing Louis’ face. But he groaned instead, moving out from under the bed and grabbing the cup in Louis’ hand and taking a gulp. He grimaced at the taste and looked up curiously.

“No whiskey in it today? Are you sick?” He questioned, causing Louis to chuckle darkly. A look of realization dawned on Harry’s face as he spoke in annoyance.

“Zayn took it didn’t he? That twat.”

Since Harry and Louis had become joined at the hip, they had changed quite a bit. The Harry that had been so naïve wasn’t so anymore. He was loud and street smart, confidant when he was around people, but Louis knew that he cried in his sleep sometimes. He wouldn’t forget the first night that he had found Harry with silver tear tracks on his unconscious face.  It had made him realize that the pain that Harry spoke about sometimes was not so easily revealed.

And he had hated himself ever since then.  He despised himself for pulling Harry into the rut with him, shackling him to chemicals that he knew could rule a mind.

He had taken the pain in Harry and pushed it under the surface, believing that he was making it disappear. But all he had done was allow it to create a home, under Harry’s very skin.

The picture porcelain skin that he had come to love and ruin. Ruin with the needle marks in the creases of his elbows, scratch marks on his back from the violent spasms that he often had.

He had gotten Harry into the mess. It was his job to get him out.

-

“Oh this is just my luck. That was my last baggie. Zayn is such an arse.” He said, sitting on the floor and letting his head fall onto Louis’ knees. Louis smiled fondly before pushing Harry’s face up and trying not to sigh at Harry’s dumbly blinking face.

“Zayn didn’t take it away Haz…I did.”

Harry gaze shot back like a cannon, not so dumb and cute anymore.

“You? Why would you do that? You could’ve just told me, would’ve saved me a morning.” He grumbled.

“No, you don’t understand. I haven’t, used it. I threw it away.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I threw it away.” Louis said, with a more confidant tone to his voice. “I threw it all away. Everything’s gone. Well except the cigarettes. But everything else it –“

“I don’t understand Louis, _why_?”

“Because, you can’t live your life like this Harry!”

“You do.” Harry pointed out impatiently.

Louis sighed; he knew that those words would be the first things out of Harry’s mouth. Taking Harry’s face in his palms, he pressed a kiss to his lips and began to explain as best he could.

“Harry when I first met you, you were so full of life. Of potential, of hope. I’ve heard you sing and you’re brilliant. You would have been someone.  You never belonged to a life like mine, I’ve been like for too long, and there is nothing I can do for myself. I’m good at making drinks and drinking them, that’s how it always had been and that’s how it’s always going to be.”

Harry’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked suspicious, but he made no move to interrupt. Louis had to take that as a good sign. He took a deep breath and continued.

“I didn’t know you when we first met, Haz. And I definitely didn’t know how much you would end up meaning to me. I was wrong, to impose my life on someone like you –“

“Why do you keep blaming yourself for this? I’m not a child now, and I wasn’t seven months ago. I knew very well what I was doing. You didn’t drag me over here and shove a needle into me. I came back. _Me._ ”

“That’s beside the point. I should have been a better person. I took _advantage_ of you Harry. Do you know what I thought when I saw you? I thought, ‘Oh wow, here’s a new project for me to enjoy, life’s gotten kind of boring with Zayn around.’ And you were _perfect_ for the job. Sweet, innocent boy, lost in a big town, trying to follow his so called dreams. –“

“Stop.” Harry said softly, but with conviction that made Louis shake. When he looked up at Louis his eyes were red rimmed, and there were tears pooling as a silver layer in front of the green orbs.

“Why are you telling me this? Why are you even bringing this up?”

“Harry I –“

“Do you even know what you’ve just told me?” Harry fumed, his jaw set with anger. “You’ve just told me, that everything we had was a lie. You’ve just told me that all I ever was for you was an _experiment,_ for your own fucking ENTERTAINMENT.”

Harry got up and grabbed his coat from a nearby chair and stormed out the bedroom door, Louis hot on his heels.

“Harry that’s not what I meant –“, He started, only to be cut off by Harry, who was seething.

“Well that’s what I heard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading (: XX feedback would really be appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

The wind was cold, but Louis could barely feel it biting at his cheeks. All he could hear was his heart thumping in a distinct rhythm.

_Ha-rry, Ha-rry, Ha-rry._

He raced down busy streets, filled with cold people, none of which could find it in them to ask why a young man was breathing so hard, why his eyes were wide with a crazed type of fear.

But Louis was in a manic state; head whipping from side to side like a whip. He searched for a curly mop of hair amongst the crowd. When Harry had left, Louis had found himself on the floor, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, cursing himself for being so stupid and blunt about what he was doing for Harry. If anyone had told Louis when he was eighteen, that they were only doing what was best for him because they were guilty, he would have probably thrown a chair at them. But Harry had left. That was even worse. Because now Louis didn’t even know where he was, he could be anywhere. Any pub, any alley, any sidewalk, puking up his guts, lying dead, _anything._

Louis took out his phone and dialled Harry’s number again for the hundredth time. The slow drawl of the voicemail filled Louis’ ears, causing frustration to wash over him again.

_‘It’s Harry; leave a message if you want. I’ll try to call you back, if I feel like it.’_

“Damn it Harry. I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you. Please talk to me. Or let me know you’re okay. I’m sorry about everything I said, and you need to let me explain. “

Louis groaned and let the call end. He had checked everywhere, all the nightclubs, all the streets. At this point, he needed nothing more than to lay eyes on Harry. As an act of desperation, he found himself at the last place he and Harry had been together when they weren’t high, the fence near the hill, with a muddy ditch at eye level. He sighed and began the trek to where he had been sitting with his boyfriend, and when he squinted, he saw a tall figure in the distance, body swaying on its feet. As Louis got closer, he saw that the person had curly hair.

-

The moment Louis grabbed Harry, the younger boy all but fell into his arms. He was hopelessly high, a syringe lay discarded in the ditch and Louis looked into Harry’s green eyes with concern. Heroin was a dangerous drug, and not one that Harry knew how to take without Louis. The blue eyed boy grabbed Harry’s arm and scanned it for signs of unusual bleeding, afraid that his boyfriend had not taken it correctly and had punctured the vein.

He tapped Harry’s forearm and sighed in relief. He ducked under Harry’s arm and began to shoulder his weight when Harry pulled away in anger.

“Leave me alone.” He snarled, pulling his arm away, Louis was slightly miffed at how easily Harry could slip out of his grasp.

“Harry, this is dangerous. Let me just –“

“No. You’ve hurt me. I don’t even want to see your face. Now get out of my way.”

“You’re so high; I doubt you can even see my face.”

Harry grunted in agreement, but clutched the fence firmly, refusing to come near Louis.

“Harry. You aren’t going to remember this. But I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did Lou. You did anyway. Why did you do that?” Harry slurred, looking down at the floor, on a verge on tears.

“I didn’t mean what I said. I mean, at first you were an experiment to me. But I really do love you now. You mean so much more to me than anyone ever has! I can’t see you waste your life like this, we’re too young to be such misfits.” Louis muttered brokenly. He looked up and held his hand out to Harry again, this time, the pleading clear in his blue eyes.

“I swear Harry. The only reason I said what I said, was plain desperation. Nothing else.”

Harry edged his fingers out and latched onto Louis wearily. Putting a heavy arm on his shoulder, he allowed Louis to pull his weight and carry him back home.

“Remind me about this in the morning Louis. You can explain when I’m sober.” Harry said sleepily as Louis gently laid him onto the bed, pulling off his shoes, shirt and jeans.

 The green eyed boy grabbed Louis hand, demanding a kiss cheekily, and his lover complied, pressing his cold lips to a warm and milky forehead, leaving a trail down his temples and ending on the tip of his nose, making Harry giggle like he hadn’t in a long time.

Louis stroked soft curly hair, twisting the wispy strands around his fingers until eyelids snapped shut over emerald eyes.

-

Harry was hunched over an untouched bowl of cereal and a dead phone at five past twelve in the afternoon, Louis sitting opposite him and staring.

“Harry please, eat.” He said, lifting his blue eyed gaze that had previously been eyeing breakfast warily.

They had been sitting in those positions for half an hour when Harry had stumbled into the room. Louis had wordlessly handed him something to eat and Harry hadn’t uttered a word. The older boy just wished that Harry would say something, anything. Anything to break the cold unfriendly silence that they had rarely experienced between them.

“Believe it or not, I’m not really that hungry.”

Harry eyed Louis menacingly, as if daring him to say the wrong thing, to start the conversation, to speak the forbidden. His green eyes seemed to say, ‘ _come on Lou, do you have the guts?_ ’

Louis had woken to snow that morning, it was still sticking to the frosted windows and the streets were painted white, but his heart was cold and black. It had been so from the beginning. But then Harry had come along, blood red and healthy, with a soul as white as that snow.  Louis’ heart had stained him.

Some stains just don’t wash away though. Louis remembered how his mother cursed the lord when she scrubbed at wine stains on his white shirts. They could never afford many clothes when Louis’ father left his family and disappeared. Jay would let the bleach turn her hands red, and scrub until her knuckles were burnt through with chemicals. And Louis would scrub the same way. Maybe it was impossible to send the pain away. But Louis would let the skin peel off his knuckles and reveal the bones inside until he could give Harry his life back.

He was sick of injecting strength through his veins, and loving tainted fingers. He needed to learn to find bravery within himself and within Harry.

Harry finally pushed the cereal away from him and sat back in his chair, and raising an eyebrow.

“About last night Harry –“

Harry held a hand up and Louis fell silent. There was a pause until Harry spoke, his tone deep and gravelly, cracking from lack of use.

“I don’t want to hear an apology. I remember what you told me last night. I probably should be upset, or punching you, but I can’t bring myself to be angry at you. I never could. I just have one question, if you’d answer it for me.”

Harry was speaking in the usual blunt way that he always did, the time when he used to be shy and hopeful in life was long gone. He was ruined by reality and coarse now, and that stung. He looked at Louis; there was suspicion and doubt in his eyes. But there was also love there, and that gave him hope.

He nodded, “Shoot.”

“Why were you so desperate to take my stash away? Were you just trying to spite me? Did I do something wrong? Or was it something else?” Harry asked. There was a glint of knowing in his eyes, but it didn’t look like very appreciative. 

Louis cleared his throat. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

A large hand slammed on a wooden table, shaking everything it held and making the four legs wobble. Harry was breathing hard and his eyes were wide open, Louis could swear he saw orange flames dancing in those green orbs. He was playing a dangerous game, looking at Harry’s shaking fingers, he realised how broken Harry was. A person so damaged could snap any second. If Harry snapped, a tornado would swallow the world around and Louis would be the first to go down with the man he loved.

When Harry spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “Don’t talk to me, in fucking _riddles_. Whether I know the answer or not, I need you to say it.”

 “When you ran away Haz, I realised that I have loved you since I met you. I just wasn’t smart enough to recognize the feeling. Loving you means, I care too much about you to let you ruin your life with this stuff. Don’t try to deny it, because you know that deep inside, this is ruining you, and it’s just going to get worse. For the last few years, I’ve woken up every morning with regrets. I’ve wished for death every day just so I can start fresh. But now that I have you, I don’t need a new life to live better. That’s why I took the weed away from you Harry. It was the wrong way to go about it though; I should have spoken to you about it first.”

“You should have.”

Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together, deep in thought, trying to decipher Louis’ words. Louis had never seen him more concentrated, eyes calm, but the gears in his brain almost audible with the speed they were spinning at.

“What are you actually trying to say Lou?”

Louis’ heart jumped at the name, and he knew, in his heart that Harry had forgiven him.

“Let’s quit. Let’s throw all this shit away and just _move_ on. I have you, and that’s all the strength I need. Would you do it if you had the chance? Would you choose a life without all this? We’d never have to worry about overdue money, and risking so much.” Louis said. He desperately needed Harry to back him up on this. “And you could see your family again, and maybe I could see mine. We could be happy Harry.”

The apartment was silent, wind from the window whistling, and Harry humming under his breath for along with the tune.

“And if I refuse?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback would really be appreciatedd :) XX


	9. Chapter 9

Harry’s jacket was too thin, and he could feel the stones of the sidewalk digging into his back. The tip of his cigarette was burning red, sending crackling sparks into the night sky. The crowd scurried along, and Harry earned a few awkward glances that he had long ago learnt to ignore. His gaze was trained on the sky; the stars weren’t as visible as they were where Louis used to take him.  The buildings here were so high, they made him feel impossibly small and the lights were so bright, they blinded him. He took another drag on the joint he was smoking, and watched it become smaller with the hollowing of his cheeks and the breath he sucked in. He puffed out a smoke ring, and smiled, vision relaxing on the edges. Everything wasn’t sharp angles and metal, the world seemed smoother and blunt along the sides, it was easier to live without clear boundaries and rules. At least, it was the way Harry had learnt to live.

-

_“What do you mean you refuse Harry?”_

_“I like my life Louis. I don’t want to go back to the waiting around and feeling incompetent and worthless. That isn’t the way to live.”_

_“And this is? You can’t live like this forever and neither can I.”_

_“So go. Leave. I don’t need you.”_

_Louis’ eyes were filled with hurt. He flinched away. His hands were shaking, and Harry knew that he would need a hit soon._

_“C’mon Lou, you helped forget when I needed to, I can help you do the same.” Harry said, taking Louis’ hand in his own, and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Louis hand was pulled away, and Harry’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, feelings of betrayal were clouding his mind._

_“What if I’m tired of forgetting? What if I feel like I need to remember?”_

_“Then go and remember with the clean ranks of society,” Harry mocked, backing away from the shorter man and pulling the front door open. “And when you come back to your senses, don’t bother calling me.”_

_“When did you become so cruel?” Louis whispered._

_“When did you become so soft?” Sneered Harry, walking out of the flat and slamming the door behind him. His feet carried him down the stairs in a blur, it was only when the cold air hit his face did he notice the tears running down his cheeks and dripping off his jaw. He saw Zayn leaning against the brick wall of the building and Harry wiped his tears off hastily, walking towards the honey skinned boy._

_“Hey Haz.”_

_“Do you –do you have a hit, or a joint or, anything.” Harry begged his voice thick._

_Zayn turned his head to look at Harry, and even though his face was free of tears, his eyes were pained. Zayn was always good at reading people, he didn’t fail this time._

_“Harry, are you okay? You look wrecked.”_

_Harry sniffed, and ran his shaking hands through his hair, “Zayn, now really isn’t the time, please say you’ve got something on you.”_

_The boy’s hazel eyes were filled with concern, but he reached into his pocket and he pulled out a packet containing three rolled joints, he handed the whole thing to Harry, who thanked him through deep breaths._

_Zayn ignored his words and pulled him into a hug, holding the curly haired boy tight. Sometimes everyone forgot how young Harry really was. In reality, it was just a few years difference, but that just meant less time for Harry to know what he was actually getting into. Zayn always regretted allowing Harry into their little world, he had so much life in him, so much to offer, but everything was gone now, and there was no use trying to get the old Harry back. So Zayn let go of one of his best friends and with a few murmurs of caution and concern, he let Harry walk away, with drugs in his pocket and the pain in his eyes._

_Zayn had never believed in destiny, but he did believe winning against life or letting it get the better of you. As far as his story went, he regretted that life had won this time; he just wished it hadn’t been the same for Harry._

_-_

“Harry Styles.” Said a voice in awe next to where Harry was sitting. The curly haired boy turned his head slowly to the side. He barely ever did things as fast as he used to, what did he have to rush for anyway?”

When he saw a mess of blonde hair and bright blue eyes staring back at him, he couldn’t believe what he saw, he looked at his joint curiously, wondering what substance could have him hallucinating.

Niall launched himself at Harry arms and legs digging into stomachs and guts, but Harry was too numb to respond. When he felt tears wetting his shirt he put two hands around Niall’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length, sitting up poker straight now.

“Is it really you?” he asked, jaw dropping at how much his best friend had changed in seven months. He realised that his hair was now more brown than blonde and styled into a quiff, his jaw was sharper and more defined, but his eyes were just like he remembered them. He shouldered his wooden guitar the same way that Harry had memorised since they were thirteen.

“Yes, yes it’s me, I can’t believe it either!”  Niall chuckled, sitting down on the pavement beside Harry who leaned over to actually draw him into a hug properly. It shouldn’t have felt any different from hugging Zayn or Louis, but it felt like home.

-

 

 

Harry was just getting used to hearing an authentic Irish accent again when he received a blow to the side of his head. He turned to look incredulously at an extremely upset Niall.

“What the fuck Niall?”

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?” Niall fumed, “Jesus Christ, Harry I have looked everywhere for you, your mother has been worried sick, I’ve been so scared Harry. You just disappeared!”

Harry sighed; this was why he never set out to find his family or tried to look for a familiar face. The questions were things he wanted to avoid.  Harry trained his eyes on the ground, avoiding Niall’s gaze guiltily.

“I never told your mum, but I had begun to believe you were dead.”

Harry looked up and gave a wry smile. “Well here I am, you want a drink? I know a place.”

“Where’s your house Harry?”

“No questions. Take the offer or leave it.”

The confused look slid off Niall’s face, and he smiled, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “When have I ever been able to refuse a pint mate?”

Harry knew it was pretence, and that the enquiries would come back to haunt him, but for now he needed a beer, a cigarette and a chat with his best mate.

-

It was the first time Harry had been in a bar sober, well, comparatively sober. The bar they were in was decent, clean table tops, decently dressed girls, nobody pulling into back rooms. No flashing lights and sweaty, grinding couples. It was normal, it was nice.

Harry didn’t realise, but him and Niall had been talking for over three hours. Niall giving generous updates on his life, while Harry sparingly told him about his own in between. He learnt that Niall had a boyfriend now, Liam was his name. He sounded like a downright decent lad.

“He lives in London you know? I found him when I was looking around for you. He lives in the building across where you used to live.” Niall had said happily.

Harry smiled and laughed, it felt good to be with Niall again, it gave him a taste of what he was missing back home. Christmas dinners, movie nights, his mum’s cooking and Fifa marathons.

The air was cold, and Niall was pulling a coat tighter around him, he looked at Harry enquiringly, “Don’t you feel cold Haz?”

“I don’t feel much anymore.”  Harry said, pulling on his joint.

“Is that weed?”

The pair turned around the alley and Niall stopped, “That’s it. I’ve had enough of pretending everything’s okay, because it clearly isn’t! Where the fuck have you been Harry, and what are you doing with your life.”

“Niall, Niall chill.”

“Don’t you tell me to _chill_ Harry. What would Gem say?”  Niall ran his hands through his hair and looked at the ground.  “What would your mum say, oh fuck –“

“You can’t tell her Niall.”

“Then I need answers.”

Harry pulled took a last drag from his joint and stubbed it out against ta brick wall, leaning against and gesturing at Niall, defeated, “Ask away.”

“Where have you been?” Niall exploded.

“I’ve been away. Somewhere far from here. Life’s good there Nialler.”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Louis. At least, I had him –“

“Hold on, who’s Louis?”

“The man I love.” Harry said mildly, leaning against the wall, and watching Niall sit down next to him and cradle his guitar.

Niall gave Harry a little grin and began playing chords on his guitar to a familiar song, it was like a song that harry had heard in a dream, but the dream was just a dream of the past. Niall saw the love in Harry’s eyes, and it was true. As long as Harry was with people he loved, Niall knew he would be safe. Because Harry’s life was driven by the fierce love he held inside himself. Without love, harry didn’t exist.

Niall began singing the words to a tune Harry remembered to well. The blue eyed boy’s voice rang clearly through the alleyway, resonating through the brick walls, and pulling at Harry’s heart. Suddenly, he felt like he had been thirsty for seven months, like a child with forbidden fruit. Niall played the next chords, and Harry felt like singing.

But he couldn’t. Where melodies should have been heard, whispers were emitted. His voice refused to co-operate, and the honey tones were buried deep inside. They wouldn’t escape, and Harry was distraught.

The tears had been tearing him inside out finally showed themselves on the surface and the green eyed boy caved into himself,  pulling his knees into his chest and taking up as little space as possible.

Before he could protest, Niall’s arms were around him, and there were lips whispering into his hair, promising that it would be alright, I’ll fix you.

“I have to leave Niall.” Harry said voice watery.

Niall pulled away, eyes full of horror. “What? No! I just found you, you’re not going anywhere.”

Harry curled his hand around his throat and let the tears drip down his cheeks. He had always felt out of place, insignificant, unworthy of much talent apart from his voice. Without the one thing he was good at, he had nothing, he was nobody. 

“Niall I’m lost.”

“I’ll find you.”

But no he couldn’t.

Harry’s expression shifted into one of determination, and he stood up, putting his hands on his best friend’s shoulders and confirming. “I’ll see you again Niall. I promise. But I need to do this on my own.”

“But I don’t know anything –“

“I _will_ see you again. I will sit you down, and tell you every-fucking-thing.“  Harry mumbled into Niall’s shoulder. He gave a hopeful smile and began walking away, “But for now, there’s someone I have to see again.”


	10. Chapter 10

“What do you mean you let him _leave_?” Louis cried in despair, looking down the road. He didn’t particularly know what he was looking for, but it may have been a curly haired figure, or a whiff of smoke that seemed to have a hint of cinnamon within its fumes.

“What did you expect me to do Louis?” Zayn exploded, having been questioned by a merciless Louis for a very long time.

“Stop him, chain him, tie him to me I don’t know!”

“Don’t you dare blame this on me. I’m not the one who dragged him into the back room and made him a druggie like the rest of us.” Zayn fumed. “No Louis that’s what we are. We’re misfits. You were never going to be a drama teacher, and I was never going to be a writer. But Harry, he had a chance. And we ruined it.”

Louis was angry at first, but then he let his head hang, and he allowed the reality of Zayn’s words to wash over him. Harry was lost the minute he met Louis. Because that’s what Louis did, ever since he was born, all he would do was lose things. His mother had had always told him that one day, he would lose something that he couldn’t replace, and then she warned him, not to come crying back to her.

“What difference does it make if he left,” Zayn scoffed. “He’s never going to get his life back.”

-

_“So go. Leave. I don’t need you.”_

The words were haunting Harry. Running through his mind like a song on repeat. A twisted, cruel song that he had sung out of anger and betrayal.

Harry ran through the streets, looking for something, anything that would lead him back to the flash of those blue eyes. He needed Louis to know he was right. He needed Louis to _understand_.

Niall had been reluctant to let Harry go, but he knew Harry too well. And anyone who knew Harry knew that it was futile to make him stay, if he didn’t want to.  But Louis didn’t know that, and he needed to. Which was why Harry was racing through streets with nothing in his mind except a carefree laugh and feather hair.

And that was how he found Louis. Forehead pressed to a brick wall with tears running down his cheeks.

“Louis.” Harry stuttered. “Louis.”

The older boy turned his face slowly, and stared at Harry, unable to register what he was seeing. Harry strode over and pulled Louis’ face to his, pressing their lips together. He kissed Louis like it was the only thing he was ever meant to do, and everything melted away. The brick building, the weed weighing heavy in his pocket, the tremble in his fingers, and the shivers in Louis’ lips.

“I love you.” He said into Louis’ mouth. “I love you, I love you. I was wrong, I need you, and I can’t live without you.”

And that was Harry was silenced by nicotine stained lips.

-

The two boys lay on the empty sidewalk, elbow to elbow, knee to knee, chest to chest and eye to eye. Louis looked into Harry’s green ones and let them devour him. Harry was a free spirit; Louis hoped that he was holding on tight enough.

“I thought I’d lost you.” He muttered.

“I thought I’d lost _you_.” Harry said voice deep. “I can’t bear the thought of it happening.”

The corners of Louis’ mouth quirked upwards. “What made you come back?”

“I met Niall.”

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, remembering Harry talking to him through a haze of heroin, about a blonde boy with blue eyes and a happy laugh. He also remembered him saying that Louis’ blue eyes were much nicer. “And what did he say?”

“Nothing I –“ Harry took a deep breath. “I tried to sing, but I couldn’t, my voice it wouldn’t –“ Harry broke off and sighed, unable to finish his sentence. But Louis understood.

“I’ve never actually heard you sing.” The older boy said quietly, fingers intertwining with Harry’s.

“That’s ‘cause I’ve gone and wrecked my voice isn’t it?” Harry snapped, rolling away and sitting up, leaving Louis alone, lying on the pavement, hand still in Harry’s. “I’m sorry; it’s not your fault.”

 “What’s happening to me Lou? I came here to follow my dreams; I didn’t want to get so fucked up in the process.” The curly haired boy said brokenly, looking up at the starry sky, hand in hand with the boy he had fallen for.

“You aren’t fucked up. And if all this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. You’re in this hell hole because of me.” Said Louis, pulling his hand away from Harry’s and looking away, unable to look into those prying green eyes that always seemed to look straight into his soul.

Harry sighed, knowing that Louis would never get over the guilt that had gotten hold of him, even though he was the last person to blame.  “Louis, do you remember that night, when I wandered into this side of town and those people tried to beat the life out of me?”

“Only too well Haz.”

“Well, they held a gun to my head that night Lou. If you hadn’t turned up, I’d be dead. I owe you my life.”

“And I’m the one who’s ruined it. We’re one fucked up pair aren’t we?”

“Seems only fitting doesn’t it though? You own my heart Louis; you’re the only one that has the power to destroy me. Nobody else” Harry whispered, pressing his lips hard onto Louis’ feeling the familiar fire strike up inside him, making him warm all over. Louis’ kissed him back urgently, tasting the salt of his own tears as he whispered back, voice shattered like broken porcelain.

“All I ever wanted was to love you. Why the hell do you give me powers that I’m bound to abuse?”

-

“Well, Mr. Styles, in all discretion.” Said the doctor, letting his binder snap shut. “I don’t think, you being around, where you live, is very safe for your recovery. If I may, rehab may be the most –“

“I’m not going to rehab.” Harry said defiantly. The doctor he had gone to see was someone who was willing not to turn him over to authorities for drug possession, nor turn him over to higher doctors who would send him into rehab without question.

“I know it isn’t your most, ah, convenient choice. But it may be the right one. Less chance of relapse, a clean, drug free environment.”

“With all respect, I know it’s the ideal thing to do, but I can’t even consider it at the moment.”

“Isn’t there somewhere you can go for a while, a home maybe, with family?”

“No. I just need to know, all there is about, quitting.”

The doctor removed his glasses and put them on the table, clasping his hands and looking Harry down. He sighed and began to speak. “Have you done much heroin before Mr. Styles?”

“No. And it’s Harry.”

“Well Harry, since you have confidently said that, your withdrawal process will be much easier. Heroin addicts often find it much harder to quit, but when they do it is usually, how do they say it, cold turkey. But, they need to be supervised at all times, and they suffer a great deal, nausea, depression, anxiety, cravings, cramps, sweating, vomiting etc.”

Harry’s face took on a worried expression, thinking of all the times that Louis had pressed the needle into his skin and gone into a state of complete happiness. Harry knew it would be much harder for Louis to withdraw than for Harry to. Louis had been doing Heroin for the last two years; Harry had barely done it once.

“–but enough about that, what is _your_ , ah, preferred drug?”

“It’s mostly, cocaine. The other times, weed.”

“Well then, your withdrawal will last for a few days at the most. You will have lots of cravings; I hope there is someone to monitor you. Fatigue, increased appetite, physical decrease in speed, mood swings, mostly for the worst. That’s about it.”

Harry nodded, as the doctor slid a sheet of paper towards him. “These are painkiller prescriptions, one pill as you wake up, one before you sleep, though, I suspect you won’t sleep much. My number is also there, for just in case. “

“Thank you, it means a lot.”

The old man smiled at him wryly. “You’re in for a few rough nights Harry. You’re going to need all the luck you can get.”

Louis was outside the hospital to wrap his arms around Harry in the sunlight. “What did the doc say?”

Harry wound his arms around Louis’ waist as they headed to the car. “You’re not going to like it Louis.”

-

 The two boys sat face to face across the table, Zayn stood against the wall with his arms crossed, just observing the couple with the pills sitting between them.

“How are we going to do this? We both need to get clean, and we can’t together, or we’d just relapse together.”

Harry bit his lip and thought for a while. “Okay. Here’s what we do.  You can watch over me first, the doctor said my withdrawal will only last a few days at the most, once I’m completely clean, I’ll watch over you.”

Louis gave Harry a wicked smile; there was a glint in his eyes as he set his resolve straight. He wasn’t going to let anyone down again. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kind of choppy i guess, but that's how I want it so yeah (: X

Harry’s head was pounding. He lay on the couch lifelessly, curly hair stuck to his forehead with the beads of sweat that didn’t seem to stop breaking out and rolling down his neck. It was day one.

Louis came in quietly, shooting Harry a little smile and opening up the window. Harry sighed and let his head roll backwards. Louis was the only thing keeping him going. It had only been three hours into the morning and Harry was already feeling a rumble in his stomach, but it wasn’t food he craved.

Sometime through the afternoon, Harry ripped his shirt off due to the immense heat and anxiety building up in his stomach. Suddenly the idea of quitting seemed ridiculous, and before he knew it, he was begging Louis.

“Louis just a drag, something, I promise just one.” He begged.  “I’ll try again after that Lou, just _please_.”

But Louis wouldn’t budge, and that’s how harry fell asleep at around five in the evening, pleading Louis for a something to soothe his poor, slow beating heart.

-

“How long has he been sleeping?” A voice whispered, Harry assumed it was Zayn.

“Few hours, frankly speaking, I’m glad he’s asleep. You have no idea how hard it is to refuse his begging.” Louis sighed. “His voice just sounds so desperate, half the time I just feel like giving him what he wants and accepting that this is a stupid idea.”

“No Lou, you just have to be firm. You know how torn up he was about losing his voice, he needs to stay clean if he wants to get that back.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad you guys are doing this.”

“Me too, I’m just really scared.” Louis whispered, and Harry knew how hard it was just for him to admit that. .

-

Day two was worse. Zayn and Louis stayed around Harry to give him moral support while Harry didn’t move out of the living room. The young, curly haired boy didn’t seem to want much company. He lashed out at Zayn; he lashed out at Rebecca, the young mother of three who lived across the corridor.  Louis had just about managed to stay protected from his volcanic state of mind.

Until the pending apocalypse broke free, and hell blazed in Harry’s eyes.

-

Harry had curled up on himself in a corner of the sofa while Louis sat next to him, talking softly about nothing much at all and flipping channels on TV.

Harry’s fingers and ankles were trembling, and Louis noticed, but he pretended he didn’t.

“Will you stop that?” Harry snapped, gesturing at the continuously changing channels. “You’re doing my head in. Either choose one, or just switch the damn thing off.”

Harry was a very calm guy, who usually never lost his temper on anyone, least of all Louis, so it would be safe to say that the older boy’s first thought was confusion. But seeing the exhaustion and weariness in Harry’s eyes, he didn’t want to push, so he let the television go black and turned to face Harry.

“Sorry.” He said quietly. “Do you need something?”

“Nothing it’s just a headache.” Harry dismissed, letting his eyelids droop.

“You sure?” Louis inquired. “Because I can get you your meds-“

“I said I’m fucking fine Louis!” Harry shouted, lips set in a hard line. “It’s horrible enough that I’m fucking nothing without my stash, I can’t deal with you trying to help things you don’t understand. Will you just leave me alone?” He asked coldly.

Louis flinched at Harry’s cruel tones. He’d never heard such menace in his boyfriend’s voice. It had always been soft and honey sweet, but this Harry was different. This Harry kind of made him want to run. 

“Yeah.” Louis got off the couch with a sigh. “Guess I’ll just leave you to your thoughts then.” 

Louis left the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself. With Harry out of his sight, the whole situation seemed to dawn on him from the third person point of view, and the headache he didn’t know existed began pounding at the inside of his skull.

In the kitchen, he knelt on the floor near the counter, tears streaming from his eyes as he clawed at the wall. To make sure that Harry wouldn’t go looking for weed and relapse, Louis had hidden everything, but now as the tile came loose in his hand, he removed the bottle of pills from the hidden compartment to stop the tears. He needed something to keep himself sane, because his fingers were trembling and everything he felt was suddenly too much for his heart to hold. He was going to explode. The apartment door opened and a dark haired boy walked in. Zayn took one look at Louis and sighed in defeat. He knelt down next to the blue eyed boy and gently took away the bottle, putting it to side. Louis latched onto his best friend feverishly, blunt nails scratching at the thin shirt as he desperately tried to hold on. Hold on to his mind that had been steadily unravelling to nothing for the past three years. Zayn hushed Louis tenderly as his shirt got damper with every sob.

“I can’t, Zayn I –can’t.” Louis sniffed. “He deserves so much better, he deserves someone _whole_. Someone who can love him first, first before pills or needles or fags.” Louis threw his fist at the bottle of pills, letting it open and spill its contents to the floor.

“But he has you.” Zayn soothed. “And honestly, I can’t think of anyone better. It won’t be like this forever Lou. You’ll both get better and you can actually start over. It’ll all be fine in the end, you’ll see.”

Louis let go of Zayn and leaned his head against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. The dark skinned boy got collected all the spilt tablets and put the back in the bottle save for one. He filled a glass of water and put the last pill in his hand.

“Are you crazy?” Louis asked flatly.

“You can’t take care of Harry if you’re losing it yourself. It’ll be your turn soon.”

Louis looked defeated as he took the little white medicine in his hand and dismissed the glass of water, swallowing it dry.

When he looked back into the living room, Harry was where he had been left, but his eyes were closed and his breathing even. He looked like an angel when he slept. Louis figured he could be classified as one even when awake.       

He did save Louis life after all. The feather haired boy grabbed a blanket and got onto the couch as well. Pressing a kiss to Harry’s curls, he threw the blanket over them both and fell asleep to the sound of calm breathing and a steady heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts,feedback? X


	12. Chapter 12

Harry awoke to a cold bed, and crashing sounds from not too far away. He took a second to relish the fact that his stomach was calm and his lungs weren’t craving the poison that he had squeezed out with Louis’ hands as support. He left the warmth of the bed and jogged towards the sound, leaning on the kitchen doorframe to look an agitated Louis. The blue eyed boy never slept with a shirt anyway. His hands clutched at the counter and the muscles in his back rippled and quivered, biceps shaking under the pressure of his own strength. Harry reached his boyfriend in three strides, and circled his waist with cool arms. Louis was growing pale, and Harry could count the knobs of his spine by just running his finger down the center of his bare back. Cold lips pressed a kiss to the back of Louis’ neck, the shaking boy leaned into Harry’s touch, and the calming connection gave him a moment of relief in what had been a storm of a morning.

“How long have you been up?” Harry mumbled into the hot skin.

Louis answered in shaky tones, “early.”

“You hungry?”

Louis shook his head, breathing in deep. Harry was knocked of balance as Louis suddenly began convulsing. He doubled over in pain, jaw hanging open in a silent scream. It was as if his pain was too great, his body couldn’t even spare the strength to let out a noise to show it. Harry’s arms were immediately under Louis’ shoulders, allowing him to transfer all his weight as they walked back to the bedroom. Harry shushed and hummed, as he laid Louis back into the bed, stroking his hair.

The older man was sweating, his eyes watered without him sobbing and his nose was red and runny. His eyelids fluttered without his consent, in a way Harry thought wasn’t exactly healthy. But when he opened Harry was there, and that was all he cared about.

Open.

Close.

Open.

Close.

Because the way his muscles burned made him cry, but there was a green eyed boy who soothed him, even though blurred through the tears. He was cold and he shivered, but Harry hugged him warm, and pressed kisses to his eyelids. When the fire in his stomach forced out the food like acid, he sobbed and begged for death, but Harry stroked his hair back, and brushed his teeth, and handed him a glass of water to get the taste out of his mouth.

The pain was all worth it, if Harry could stay with him, then Louis could hold on a little longer, and claw his way back and _try_ for happiness.

-

Harry pushed the heels of his palms into his ears, trying to block the noise of the painful reality out, he pressed harder, until the blood throbbed in his head, making everything hurt. It was easier to hear his own pain than Louis’ travelling through the house in forms of agonized screams and tension that was as heavy as the doses of heroin and syringes in Harry’s pocket. He forced himself to push off the cold counter and go back to Louis. The only thing keeping both of them strong was each other. Louis was writhing on the bed, clutching at his stomach and letting out pained screams. When he looked up to Harry his eyes were crazed and dim, soiled with tears. Harry knelt at the foot of the bed, resting his chin on the skin of Louis’ outstretched forearm. The beaded sweat and naturally bleached golden hair made it shine.  Feather hair stood up in a halo that the sunshine accentuated, streaming through the window, tear drops shivered on his eyelashes as they fluttered. In a twisted world, Louis could be a Greek god, tortured in the depths of Tartarus. A place worse than hell itself, with a power so great it pulled you further and further into the dark, until you don’t even know yourself anymore.

But it _was_ a twisted world, and Louis was stroking Harry’s cheek in a moment of calm, the younger boy leaned into the touch, letting his eyes flutter shut, enjoying the peace of the moment that was never meant to last.

When Harry opened his eyes Louis’ face was contorted in pain again. “I need it.” He choked out, gripping Harry’s face tight.

Harry gently tugged Louis fingers away and pressed kisses to the pads of soft skin, Louis sighed. “Please Harry, please.”

The green eyed boy shook his head in a silent refusal, his pocket seeming heavier than ever.

“GIVE IT TO ME HARRY!” Louis screamed, thrashing about. He grabbed his knees and pulled them up to touch his chest while lying on his side, he bit into the skin of his leg as he tried to break the scream.  His face was disfigured and ugly, the pain inside him showing itself on the outside without shame, without showing any guilt of ruining a visage so pure and beautiful.

“It hurts, too much.” He sobbed.

-

The sharp of Harry’s cheekbone throbbed, a dull pain shooting through it at every moment, he looked down at his reflection in the snow frosted window, and his cheek already bruised red, the shape of Louis’ right hand knuckles embedded within the pale skin.

He walked back to the room where Louis lay, curled in on himself. His feather hair was greasy, and his eyes were red rimmed and filled with anger, he trembled and shivered as he snarled at Harry.

“You don’t understand that I need it. You want me _dead_.”

“No Louis.” Harry mumbled, letting the curtains swing shit, blocking the sunlight out of the room. “I want you to stay alive, and be healthy, and grow old with me. It’s you who doesn’t understand.”

Louis scoffed, “That’s a child’s dream. We’re never going to be respected, or understood in society. I don’t want to live in fear.”

Harry had never heard Louis sound so cold about anything; he had always been a passionate heart.  Now that he thought of it, Harry had never thought of having a future with Louis, in fact, he had never really thought of a future at all. The image in his head, sitting on a front porch with Louis, hands entwined and tea forgotten, it seemed quite ridiculous, but it was something that Harry wanted. He didn’t _want_ to live a fast track life, he didn’t want to go down in flames with the man he loved, all that seemed like thoughts of the past. Harry wanted a happily ever after, and he wanted it with Louis.

“Sometimes dreams are all you have to keep you going.” Harry mumbled, more to himself than to Louis. He held a palm to Louis cheek, and cupped it gently, stroking the stubble there, but the older man grabbed Harry’s wrist with a shivering hand and shoved it away.

“I hate you.”

And that’s when Harry ran.

He ran from the room, and he ran out of the apartment and into the cold winter air with nothing but thin t-shirt and sweatpants. He put his hands on his thighs and bent over, wheezing and sobbing, tears running down his cold cheeks. He clutched at his bare arms, nails digging into the white skin, breaking the skin and drawing beads of blood.

Through the vision that was blurred with tears, he saw a lanky figure walking –no running, towards him.  He tried to take deep breaths, calm himself, but the tears kept brimming over and spilling out. His chest hurt as he heaved and tried to make himself smaller and smaller. Poor Harry Styles, too big for the world, always trying to create more room for people more worthy than him.

Or so he thought.

“Harry?” Zayn gasped, grabbing Harry, whose knees were giving out, he was sinking to the ground. “Harry c’mon, what’s wrong?”

Harry looked up into Zayn’s eyes, “He hates me, why am I even doing this?” He was sobbing as he spoke, “what am I thinking? We’re never going to get out of this place! We’ve been fucked since the minute we met.”

“Okay.” Zayn said, heaving Harry up firmly, he leaned the young boy against the wall and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “None of this ‘oh pity me’ party. You and Louis have both been running it since this whole escapade was decided upon. You know he didn’t mean what he said. The guy is fucking delirious without heroin, and you can’t afford to listen to him when he’s talking shit. The last thing we need is you running off and using again in a moment of weakness and both of you will be back at square one. So you get your vain arse back in that apartment, have some tea and calm the fuck down, and I will go talk to Lou.”

Harry nodded, and through the speech, he noticed that the tears had stopped. “Fine, but you don’t have to talk to Louis, you’re right. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Trust me; it doesn’t give him the right to talk his mouth off like that.” Zayn muttered, shoving the apartment door open. “And I haven’t spoken to the dick in a while, LOUIS!”

Harry gave a watery chuckle at Zayn’s colourful choice of language as he looked for his best friend, the curly haired boy headed to the kitchen to check for tea, god knows when any of them went grocery shopping last.

Just as he had scrounged up some tea and a clean mug, Zayn walked into the kitchen breathless.

“Louis’ gone.”


	13. Chapter 13

“What.” Harry said flatly. “do you mean by gone.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “He isn’t in his room or anywhere is in this ridiculously large apartment, oh and the window is open. The one leading down the fire escape.” He said helpfully.

“we need to go look for him.” Harry said immediately. “he could be anywhere, he was in a really bad state.”

“Well maybe he just needed a breather.” Zayn suggested.

“Trust me.” Urged Harry. “This is a Louis that is different from anything you’ve ever seen. Him without the drugs is nightmare.”

“You forget.” Zayn said, pulling on his leather jacket. “I knew him long before you.”

-

Harry was fidgeting nervously as Zayn drove, looking for any sign of the blue eyed boy. They looked in the pub and the shop, and the drug store and his dealers. They even looked in the hospital where the nurses wondered what two young, wild eyed boys were so worried about.

Zayn screeched to a stop in the middle of an empty road, streetlights shining down on them as Harry stepped out of the car for some fresh air. Harry put his head in his hands tiredly and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. “C’mon Louis,” he whispered. “where are you.”

Harry wasn’t certain if a god existed, well would he have ever let Harry get into this mess, but if by any chance he did exist Harry begged. He begged that he would find Louis, he begged that everything would get better, he just begged.

I’ll do anything, he thought, fucking anything to get my boy back.

Zayn tapped on the window from the inside and beckoned Harry in. “I think I’ve found Louis.” He said, starting the car and without questions they took off into the dark again.

-

When Zayn pulled up again, Harry could have kicked himself. “The fence under the fucking stars.” He said. “of course.”

Harry scrambled out of the car and jogged up the hill before the fence, the grass was dry and brown, it cracked under his heavy feet, the trees were bare and the lake opposite was muddy and polluted. Everything about the place screamed imperfection and there was no hope for it. Yet the stars twinkled and shone. It was hope, and that was something that Harry needed to fuel.

His sober eyes trained on a body lying lifelessly in the mud, and the breath flew out his mouth as the wind whipped past his hair, the world slowed down, but he ran even faster until he reached Louis, syringe lying on his jacket and fingers barely twitching. He wasn’t breathing.

“No.” Harry sobbed. “ _No.”_

And then Zayn was by his side. Hands on Louis’ wrist, checking the pulse. “It’s really faint.” He muttered, moving his fingers up to Louis’ neck. “Too faint.”

“Is he -“

“Don’t even go there.” Zayn warned. “We take him to the hospital. He’ll be fine.”

Harry nodded, but a small part of him wondered who Zayn was trying to convince.

-

The next few hours passed in a blur of white and medical terms that made Harry’s head spin, _Overdose. Unstable mental condition. Possible suicide attempt. Highly unstable heart rates. Kidney failure. Defibrillation._

Every word was like a dagger to Harry’s already erratic heart. He sunk further into the uncomfortable plastic chairs, tears silently leaking out from under his trembling eyelids.  He didn’t want to see the white clarity around him, his life was anything but unstained and clear. It was satin, beautiful white satin, but now marred with the dark red stains of Louis’ love and it was smothering him, drowning him, and killing him.

There are a lot of questions in this world cannot be answered. One of them, is death really better than living a nightmare? The answers vary between every individual, but nobody will ever know the true answer, because nobody can really be neutral and survey the situation as an outsider.  To ask yourself this question, you must be in its depths desperately searching for answers, not on the sidelines simply observing.

Even hell would be deliciously preferable compared to life without Louis, which was Harry’s answer.

And when the doctor walked through the emergency doors towards Harry, his chest began to do strange things in fear. Zayn got up, as brokenly as Harry to talk quietly to the doctor, the curly haired boy following close behind.

“ _–currently stable, but we don’t know when he’ll surface, we don’t even know for certain if he definitely will. It can tip either way right now. It’s standard procedure to keep him on the life support for thirty one days, after that it gets complicated, but we’ll get to that when we it comes. Would you like to see him?”_

-

Louis was pale and thin, bony fingers digging into the space between Harry’s fingers. His eyelashes were brushing the purple hollows under his eyes, his lips were chapped and slightly open around the tube that was giving oxygen to his currently unstable ones.

His chest rose and fell slowly; he looked calmer than he ever had. Harry had always though Louis was so strong, but like this, he looked younger than ever. And unknown to him, Harry was quietly sobbing by his side.   
“Wake up Lou.” He said, pressing kiss to Louis’ knuckles and letting his head rest on the soft bed. “I can’t promise you anything from my side, but you owe me, and you can’t break your promise. You said everything would be fine. This is far from _fine_. You owe me big time.” Harry whispered, eyelids slipping shut until he dreamed his way out of the four white walls and into a starry sky, looking down at two lost souls near a ditch, laughing into each others’ mouth, bottle of cheap wine forgotten next to their entwined legs.

-


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh I suck at updating, but I hope you enjoy this one (:

Two weeks was agonizing silence that stretched from nights and seeped quietly into days like the sunrays through the hospital windows. Harry never left Louis’ side; he stayed at the foot of his bed, sometimes talking, sometimes cursing, sometimes crying, and sometimes just not saying a word, because that silence was so fragile.

On the fourteenth day, Harry saw a flash of blue and a flutter of eyelids; in a state of shock he just stared. He sprung into action as Louis began choking on the tube that was pumping air into his lungs. Harry hit the red button by the bedside immediately. The nurses filed in and removed the offending machinery and pressed a syringe into Louis’ forearm, his blue eyes turned to Harry for a millisecond, but it felt like a millennium, after which they snapped shut again.

“He’ll wake up in thirty minutes or so, it’s just a light painkiller mixed with anesthesia to dull the sore throat” one of the nurses said kindly.

They left the room, accepting that Harry had become one of the permanent fixtures; he spoke bitterly into the empty room hoping that Louis heard. “You deserve your throat to fucking burst into flames.”

 Sending a quick text to Zayn he slumped down onto one of the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs, ready to wait again.

-

When Louis came around in the evening, there was a dark skinned boy sitting at the foot of his bed, smiling weakly at him. “Evening Lou.”

“Where –“, Louis cleared his throat but his voice was still cracked and sore. “Where am I?” His voice was barely heard, and it squeaked and broke from lack of use.

“Hospital mate, overdose.”

Louis flinched at the casual way Zayn threw out the word. “Harry?” he croaked.

Zayn grinned. “Figured you’d ask for him, but he’s home, showering, sleeping whatever he needs to do to feel human again.”

“He isn’t here?”

Louis shoulders drooped, his face was chalk white and he was thinner than he had ever been, hair greasy and hands frail. Zayn was sad to see that the shine in his eyes was lost.  They used to be cerulean and sapphire shining bright like the sea, but now they were just blue.

“He was here, for the last two weeks, he never left your side. But he knew you were waking up and I just think it was probably too much for him to handle, you put him through a lot of shit.”

“This is all my fault, I – I really fucked up.” Louis said, putting his face in his hands tiredly.

Zayn sighed sympathetically; he got up and sat down next to Louis, cuddling up to his side. “We were all really worried Lou. Give it some time, you’ll work it out, you always do.”

-

Harry pulled up the strength to go and see Louis himself after Zayn’s incessant black mailing and the guilt and anger that was eating him away inside. He had been too scared to even go and see Louis, and those two days had made him dwell on the one emotion that was festering inside him, anger.

Anger that Louis could just leave like that, knowing what it would do to the boy waiting at home for him, loathing the fact that the drugs had more of a hold on Louis than Harry did, and most of all, Harry was livid at himself, because he cared about all of this more than Louis ever would.

So when he entered the white hospital and entered his name into the log, all he could think of was the hurt and wariness that he felt, he had never been so tired in his life.

Harry melted into Zayn’s arms, sniffling in his cologne and the smell of smoke that lingered on his leather jacket. “He’s fine,” Zayn muttered, “He’s okay.” But that just made Harry angrier. Louis didn’t deserve to be okay, not when Harry was breaking inside and slowing buckling under the whip of his own emotions.

But he didn’t tell Zayn that, because how could he be so selfish, _you love Louis, you can’t hate Louis. Because you love him. You’re just a bit upset, but all this will go away when you see Louis._

Harry convinced himself, running the words through his head as he walked into Louis’ room, Zayn stayed outside to give them some privacy but Harry kind of wanted someone there, he felt a little like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at the slightest trigger.

Louis was still in his hospital gown, head lolling as he tapped on his phone aimlessly. Harry walked in silently, but Louis was always aware to Harry’s presence in the room.  “Harry.” Said softly, eyes lighting up.

“Hey Lou.” Harry croaked. “Feeling okay?”

Louis could only whisper, captivated by the horror swirling in Harry’s eyes, he knew instantly, that something had gone terribly wrong. “Better now.” Louis held out his arms, and Harry tumbled into them recklessly, a breakable mess in tears. He sobbed into Louis shoulder but formed no words, Louis twirled a finger in the curls at the nape of his neck and apologized, over and over and over again, but he doubted that Harry could hear.

-

Harry helped Louis into their apartment, careful not to jostle him too much; his stomach still ached and throbbed from the abuse it had taken at the hands of the doctors that pumped the poisons out of his body. Louis could barely speak; his lilted angelic voice had turned to a gruff tired croak that made him curl up in fits of hacking coughs echoing off the walls. Every sound made Harry flinch.

Every time they touched he dove back into himself, unable to look Louis in the eye. There were times when he couldn’t resist, and he kissed Louis breathless, but then the anger overtook him at night. When Louis was fast asleep, Harry would curl his fingers into his hair and scream silently, tears creeping out and running down his cheeks.  How could Louis be so indifferent about it all, how could he act as if nothing had changed? Everything was different. Everything. Louis had left, without a word, and he could have died that night. _Didn’t he even think about what would happen to me, if he left? Does he care?_

The voiced echoed in Harry’s head, resounding on the planes inside his brain and taunting him from the inside, _of course he doesn’t care. Why would he? You’re just his little plaything that he keeps around, an experimental fuck that he enjoys._ Some part of Harry’s heart must have been yelling out the ridiculousness of it all, but Harry was hurting too much to notice. When the tears died down and his mind was somewhat silent again, he put a strong face on and breathed in slow. Because that what Harry did, he stayed strong for people, even those who hurt him. It had been that way for as long as Harry could remember. By the time he slid back into bed with Louis, the sun would peek out into the sky, and Harry would make sure that his skin was far from Louis’, because nothing could be worse than embracing a man that loved you through lies. 


	15. Chapter 15

Harry trudged out in the mush, screaming Louis’ name at the top of his lungs. The cold wind was burning his tear stained cheeks and his hair whipped at his forehead and poked at his wet eyes. He screamed until he could scream no more, and then he would whisper brokenly and cry and mutter until his voice mustered up the strength to scream again.

The night was dark, and there was not a star to be found, even the moon was hidden by thick, dark clouds, and Harry felt completely alone. He was at the ditch, and the fence, the only place in London where he had ever seen stars. But even tonight there were none, they had abandoned the world mistaking it for being asleep. When in reality, there was still a lost and broken boy roaming its dangers.

Harry saw a bowed head in the distance and it was brown haired and tired, the body was more clearly seen as Harry got closer and closer, and it was Louis. His shoulders shook and shivered as he sobbed, pushing a syringe into the crease of his forearm.

Harry screamed Louis’ name out once more, and tried to run, but his feet were agonizingly slow. He pushed harder and harder, breaths coming out haphazardly as he desperately yearned to be at Louis’ side. He reached Louis, after what felt like a decade, and knocked the syringe out of his hand.

“What are you doing?” Louis screamed, trying to be heard over the howling winds.

“Me?” Harry grabbed Louis’ shoulders and shook them in frustration, “What are you doing? You _promised._ ”

Louis eyes slowly turned from tears to malice, and the blue in them was icy steel as he hissed venomously, “I owe you _nothing._ ”

“How could you do this to me?” Harry cried, on his knees in front of Louis, “I love you so much, and you’re going to kill yourself. Don’t you even care about what would happen to me without you? Do I even matter to you?”

Louis stood up and stared down at Harry coldly, when a tear slipped out of Harry’s eye he scoffed, “Don’t be silly Harry. You’ve never mattered to me.”

And he raised the syringe and plunged it into his arm. The vein burst, and Louis cried in pain, the blood ran down his arm and Harry screamed, lightning illuminating Louis’ contorted face. The curly haired boy sobbed and begged, grabbing the bleeding arm and desperately trying to push the blood in as Louis collapsed on Harry. Harry’s hand was wet with blood and Louis’ pulse was slowly getting fainter, his heart beat barely audible.

Harry whispered in Louis’ ear brokenly, “But I love you.”

Louis’ eyes stayed lifeless, cold, unfeeling as he whispered right back. “So naïve.” He gurgled, giving Harry a distorted smile.

And then his body went limp.

-

Harry’s torso shot off the mattress like a bullet, bare chest heaving. His eyes were wide and terrorized. He could still hear himself screaming from a distance and it made his heart shudder. He clutched at his skin and sighed, only thankful that he had woken up. Usually his nightmares were just flashes of the night that he and Zayn had found Louis, but this one was worse. He had never dreamt of Louis speaking to him. He scrubbed his eyes tiredly, his limbs hurt and his head pounded from the nights that had haunted him for the last month. His body was exhausted as was his mind, but he couldn’t sleep.

Harry looked at Louis who was sleeping by his side, his face was calm. All the creases in his face were smooth and perfected like the planes of his torso and the softness of the eyelashes that brushed his lavender eye sockets. He looked so unlike what Harry had seen, but the voices in Harry’s head were nagging and poking and prodding at the facts and twisting them into something dark and confusing. Harry had begun to believe them.

He looked down to see their hands touching; his own their pinkies overlapping each other. Harry flinched away, each touch that Louis gave fueling on everything that was swirling around in his mind. Every time Louis spoke, all Harry heard was malice, every time he smiled all Harry saw was a smirk.

_So naïve. He doesn’t care why would he?_

 And with that thought repeating itself, Harry got up and padded quietly to the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs, putting his forehead down on the cool counter and sighing. Maybe someday, this will all have been worth it. He closed his eyes and hoped that sleep would overtake him again.

-

Louis woke up to a cold bed, as he had done every morning for the last week. When he turned his head, he wasn’t met by a mouthful of curls, there were no warm green eyes looking into his, and rasping at him to get his arse out of bed so that they could start the day. There was no Harry.

Louis sighed; he knew that it was taking a toll on Harry, everything that they had been through. Louis was alive because of Harry, Harry was his rock, his oxygen, the blood in his veins and the nerves and the breath in his lungs, and everything screamed Harry. Whether he liked it or not, he belonged to Harry, his body and mind were collapsed on Harry, and if he were to leave, Louis had a feeling that he would fall and spiral, badly.

He pulled himself out of bed and trudged to the kitchen, expecting a sticky note from Harry saying that he had gone to the shops with a little smiley face and a kiss. Instead he found Harry himself, asleep at the table, forehead touching the wood and snoring softly. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked anything but peaceful. He looked agonized, and Louis just wanted to kiss out the creases in his temples and breathe away the worry on his pale visage.

“Louis,” Harry mumbled, his voice pained, and Louis went and placed a palm on his shoulder.

“Harry?” he questioned, as Harry began moaning louder, broken tone echoing off the walls. “Harry!” Louis said louder, shaking his shoulders.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, his breathing was hard and tense. Harry’s broad shoulders shook with the tremors that were running through his body as he struggled to catch his breath. Louis frowned and turned to face Harry, eyes filled with worry.

“Harry, Harry.” He said gently, stroking his collarbone, “Breathe Hazza, that’s it,” he coached, “breathe.”

His voice was like oxygen to Harry’s lungs and he slowed his breath, trying to gain control over himself.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

When he opened his eyes Louis was grinning, “good morning love.” He said, pressing a palm to Harry’s cheek. The younger boy tried not to flinch at the leer he saw in Louis’ eyes. His touch was flames, and not the good kind. These burned betrayal into his skin and branded him brutally.

“G-good morning.” Harry stuttered, getting up from the chair and walking over to the cupboard pulling out the tea. Louis smiled, and continued talking, talking about anything and everything, musical voice filling Harry’s unwilling ears, and without even noticing he had made enough tea for two.

_When Louis leaves, which he will, what the fuck am I going to do?_

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this took so long, you can always check my tumblr for teasers, and feedback is appreciated all the timee :) X


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is greatly appreciated, always. Enjoy!! XX

_“Don’t be silly Harry, you never mattered to me.”_

The words echoed in Harry’s mind. They had occurred in a dream, haunted him. Louis’ voice wouldn’t leave him. In Harry’s dreams, the silky tone coaxed him and gently pressed him slowly over the edge and into the darkness. When Harry was falling and tumbling into nothingness, he would call out Louis’ name, but there would be no answer and Harry would wake up with the sound of Louis’ laughter still echoing in his head. But it was unlike anything he had heard before, it was cold and cruel and tauntingly beautiful.

When Harry woke up, it was four in the evening, it was winter, and the sun had begun to set. He shouldn’t have slept in so long; his schedule had been wrecked ever since Louis had returned from the hospital and the nightmares had taken over Harry’s will to rest his mind.

He got off the bed groggily and walked to the kitchen where Louis was putting on a sweater and pulling on his shoes. “Hey sweetcheeks.” He grinned, “There’s tea for you, just how you like it.”

Harry nodded, “why’d you let me sleep in so much, I was just going in for a nap.” He said, taking a sip, even though the tea was cold.

“You deserve it,” Louis said, looking down at Harry concernedly, “I feel like you’ve been getting no sleep at all lately and –I feel like I’m half of the reason for that. What with you being constantly worried about what I’m doing and where I’m going, to be honest, it’s getting kind of crazy.” Louis chuckled.

“Right.” Harry said curtly, biting back a more hurtful response. “And where are you going?”

“Oh, Grimmy’s having a party, supposed to be a blast.” Louis said casually, leaning in to kiss Harry goodbye, but the younger man turned his face.

“You’re going for a party, and that being said, a party thrown my _Nick Grimshaw._ Smooth move Tommo.” Harry sneered.

“What’s got your pants in a twist?” Louis retorted.

“Oh nothing.” Harry said sarcastically. “You go ahead, have fun. Maybe let someone spike your drink, maybe take a few pills. You enjoy yourself with that okay?”

“Okay, what is that supposed to mean?” Louis asked, furrowing his brow angrily.

“Nothing.” Harry snarled, slamming down his mug, causing the tea to slosh around and spill on to the table, “why don’t you go get _Grimmy_ to help you out.”

“Sure,” Louis retaliated, “maybe he can tell me why you’re being such an uptight, prissy little _bitch._ ”

“Oh no please,” Harry begged scornfully, “why don’t I tell you. Maybe it’s because I’m fucking sick of you!”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sick of you and your fucking voice, I’m sick of your hair and those bloody blue eyes, I am _sick_ of everything. I _hate_ the fact that you prance around like nothing is wrong, because clearly, something is wrong here.”

“Clearly.” Louis mumbled, nonplussed by the rage in Harry’s voice.

“How can you not notice that I’m spiraling? How can you not notice that I can’t smile anymore? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I can’t do anything because of _you_. And you don’t even care. You’ve ruined me.” Harry whispered, breathing hard. He put his head down exhaustedly. Letting out all the emotions that he had been carrying around for the last two months had drained him of his energy, but he wasn’t feeling better, because Louis was yet looking at him like an innocent child caught red handed for something he hadn’t done.

“I don’t understand Harry,” he noted cautiously, “what have I done?”

Harry stomped his foot, frustrated. Anger building back up in his belly making his emerald eyes burst out in flames. “How dare you leave me? How dare you leave in the middle of the night to lead yourself into a sure death? What would I do without you I –“, Harry broke off, tears dripping down his cheeks. Louis was looking at him, but Harry feet weren’t planted on the ground. He felt his dreams replaying in his mind and choking the breath out of him. “Do I even matter to you?”

_Don’t be silly Harry. You’ve never mattered to me._

“Harry you’re upset about something that happened two months ago.”

“Answer the question Louis.”

_Don’t be silly Harry. You’ve never mattered to me._

“I don’t know what is even happening to you, you look crazy.”

“Why won’t you answer the question?”

_Don’t be silly Harry. You’ve never mattered to me._

Harry screamed brokenly, pressing the heels of his palms into his temples. “Get out of my head!”

He ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him and ignoring Louis’ calls. His mind swirled with words and letters and different tones of voices. Some screamed and some whispered and some spoke kindly and some whipped at his most vulnerable thoughts. Something had gone terribly wrong within him. He had gone from a boy with no worries and a strong mind, to a broken toy with joints hanging by a thread.

The wind was cold and whipping past his cheeks, biting at the tears that had wetted the skin there. Harry didn’t know where he was running, all he knew was escape, and he needed escape. His thoughts strayed to a bar not far from where he was but he shook it off. He didn’t need chemicals and he didn’t need numbness. He needed the pain, he needed it to lead him somewhere he should have run to the minute he got the chance.  Maybe if he had then his heart wouldn’t ail him so, and maybe if he had then his mind would be more at peace.

He needed the pain to lead him home.

Harry realized that he was running out of breath, as if the matter had been of the least importance. His mind was in overdrive. He slowed down, and bent forward, resting his hands on his tired knees, gasping for air again. He was at a park, and the wind was cold. Being in sweatpants and a thin shirt did nothing to keep the heat from escaping. He had no money, no coat, just a phone. How the hell was he supposed to get to where he needed to be?

His phonebook consisted of people who wouldn’t blink an eyelid to leave him in the frozen snow, there was only one person he could call, and that was the only person who would be at his side without a second thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be another chapter after this and then an epilogue!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has taken too long, but i hope you enjoy it!

“Harry, please don’t do this.” Zayn begged. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave us. Don’t leave Louis.”

“If I don’t I’ll go crazy.” Harry said firmly, putting on a leather jacket and slinging the backpack that Zayn had bought him over his shoulder. “I’m not ready for this, I never was. I need, I need.” Harry stuttered, out of breath.

“And if Louis asks?” Zayn questioned. Desperation was clear in his eyes. It was his last resort.

“Tell him I love him, but I can’t stand him right now. Don’t tell him where I am. Or where I’ve gone. When he understands, he’ll find me. I know he will.” Harry said, he put a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t tell him where I am. And that you’ll take care of him.”

“I promise.” Zayn said tiredly. “Are you leaving now?”

Harry nodded and pulled Zayn into a tight hug. “I hope I see you again mate.”

“Me too. Don’t go too far.”

Harry just smiled and turned his back on Zayn, walking in the general direction of what could lead him home. He turned his back on the town, the place that had consumed him. The place that had stabbed at his emotions time and again, pressing them into a confused mess that nobody could decipher.

He turned his back on hell.

And yet he was sad to leave.

-

“What the hell Zayn?” Louis screamed, tearing at his hair. “Zayn why do you keep doing this?” his fist landed on a table and he squeezed his eyes shut. “You keep letting him leave. And now you won’t tell me where he is? What kind of sick friend are you?”

“Louis I know this is hard but –“

“No Zayn!” Louis shouted. “You don’t know. You don’t know that I cannot survive, I will not survive!”

“Okay you need to shut up.” Zayn said loudly, jabbing a finger into Louis’ chest. “This is not my fault. This is your fault! You’ve hurt him. You’ve pushed him away. If I hadn’t helped him he would have ended up dead on a street.”

Louis breathed hard and fast clutching the edge of a table so hard, his knuckles had turned white. His chest was heaving and he could feel a tear creeping out the corner of his eye.

“I don’t, I don’t know what to do Zayn.” He stuttered, “I don’t know how to –“

“Fix yourself Lou.” Zayn said harshly. “You need to be able to take care of yourself before you can take care of Harry. He doesn’t deserve your love when it’s divided and you know that.”

“I can do it Zayn okay?” Louis said, walking towards the door, only to have Zayn grab his hands and hold him back. “Let me go. You can’t tell me what to do. If I want to go and find my boyfriend I will.”

“Times may have changed mate, but him running away from you could mean that he doesn’t want to see you.”

Instantly all the fight drained out of Louis and instead of straining against Zayn’s hold he found himself curling back into his best friends arms, sinking to the ground. Louis felt his chest contracting with every sob and he felt the walls closing in around him, the only thing anchoring him was Zayn’s firm embrace. Whispered sweet nothings washed over his mind drowning out the voices that began to plague him. Harry’s voice firmly ordered to Louis to breathe. ‘Don’t give up on us now Lou’ Louis clawed at the floor and at Zayn’s arms, struggling for breath.

How to live without someone, when they provide you with ease of mind and heart?

How was Louis supposed to live without Harry? Harry was everywhere. He was in the sweetness of the tea and the warmth of the sunlight. He was in the smell of the sofa and the presence of the kitchen. He was in everything. The people you love usually are.

And then it becomes hard to let go, impossible almost.

And Louis realized that, as he cried silently into Zayn’s arms. Without Harry there was no Louis anymore. Because Louis had never known himself before Harry, and now Harry was gone.

-

Louis sat by the windowsill, cup of tea in his hands that Zayn had given him. The liquid had gone cold, and Louis had made no effort to finish it. It didn’t taste right, it didn’t look right. A wave of anger took over Louis eyes and his hand lashed out, letting go of the cup. It hit the opposite wall and shattered, the tea stain spreading on the wall.

Louis’ back slumped into the seat and he sunk hopelessly. It was happening like it had before, he was spiraling.

Louis grabbed his phone from where it lay on the floor. He picked it up and dialed Harry’s number, which he knew off by heart. The familiar dial tone sounded in his ears and his heart jumped as he heard Harry’s voice.

“Hey Louis, I thought you would call and I figured you’d want an explanation. Well you deserve one anyway –“, Harry chuckled, and Louis sighed. Voicemail. So Harry.

“Lou, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I left. I know you hate me, but I’ve been hating you too. I hate that you tried to kill yourself without even thinking of what would happen to me. I hate that you’re selfish and you’re conceited, and that you only look out for yourself. I could never have done that to you. I guess that’s where we’re different. But you’re also kind, and funny, and gentle and unfortunately I –“, Harry stuttered. “I love you. So I want you to know that, this isn’t goodbye. Unless you want it to be. I just need some time. With myself, to understand. I feel like, I need you too much, we need time away. I’ll see you then Louis. Bye, I guess.”

The voice bleeped out and Louis jabbed the red button angrily. He looked up at the shattered cup on the carpet. So helpless, helplessly broken like him. He was helplessly broken. Torn apart by vicious fingers and mischievous green eyes. Louis threw his phone across the room and screamed loudly.

Zayn clambered into the room, startled by the commotion. Louis was shouting at the invisible, because that was what hurt him the most, the things he couldn’t see. There were tears streaming down his face and red claw marks down his arms where he was hacking at the skin, trying to inflict upon himself a fraction of the agony inside him.

“Louis! Louis stop!” Zayn shouted from the other end of the room. “You need to stop! You need –you need to grow up.”

Something inside Zayn told him that approaching Louis would just cause him to snap. So Zayn knelt to be on Louis eye level. The older boy had gone quiet, breathing heavily at the carnage around him.

“Tell me, Louis.” Zayn said. “Just say the word. I’ll help you. I will never leave your side. Just let me in.”

Louis looked up, watery blue eyes locking into determined brown ones. “I just want everything to stop. I want the pain to leave. I want to stop hurting so much.”

“I can help you babe. You know we can get you help.”

“It won’t work,” Louis sighed slumping against the wall. “not without Harry.”

“You’ve never tried.” Zayn said gently. “You don’t know what you can accomplish. Just say the word. It will all go away. All the pain, all the hurt.”

“Okay.” Louis said with a shuddery breath. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always appreciated (:


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